Sorry, Wrong Number Page #3

Well, that depends on

what you call out of town.

Oh, I don't know. Harvard?

- Are you trying to be funny?

- What do you call out of town?

- Grassville.

- What college is up there?

No college.

Just steel pipes and mica parts.

I'm sorry.

I didn't know.

That's all right.

To be perfectly frank with you...

I never even finished high school,

not that I wouldn't have liked to.

Neither did my father.

He never got past the seventh grade.

- You don't say?

- My father always says...

"If a man hasn't any talent

for making money...

college won't knock it into him.

And if he has a talent

for making money...

why should he waste his time

in college?"

There's something in that too.

Your old man ought to know...

when it comes to making money.

- Well, I'll be getting along now.

- Just a minute.

What do you say

we sit the next one out?

What for?

I've got my own car off campus

just outside the main gate.

It's a Lagonda. I just got it

from Europe. Did you ever drive one?

Never heard of it. Besides, Sally's

probably looking all over for me.

What difference does that make?

This is a public dance, isn't it?

Don't worry.

She'll never even miss you.

But what about me missing her?

Or did that idea ever strike you?

Come on.

Don't be silly.

For once, I'm not kidding.

Neither am I.

So long, Miss Cotterell.

I'm sorry I can't oblige that

Lagonda or whatever you call it.

I'd never put the two of you

together in a million years.

- Why?

- Well, you're both so different.

You belong in different worlds.

You don't belong here

in Grassville, Henry.

- What makes you say that?

- Just a feeling.

I've been around a good deal,

and I...

I think I can spot the real thing

a mile away.

Isn't that Grassville over there?

- Guess we'd better turn around.

- Why?

- It's nice here.

- Think so?

Stick around a few years

and see how much you like it.

Henry, that woman back there

in the house...

who opened the door for me,

was she your mother?

- My mother's dead.

- That's strange.

So is mine.

She died when I was born.

- What was your mother like?

- I don't know.

You mean she died young too?

She died last year,

but I never knew her.

All she was to me was just a line of

wet clothes hung across the kitchen.

A mess of greasy pots and pans

piled in the sink.

All I ever saw of her was...

a pail of soap and a mop and her

old run-over shoes in the closet.

It's funny, I guess, but...

when I saw her lying there in

the undertaking parlor last year...

she seemed to me like

somebody I hardly knew.

I don't know why I'm telling you.

There's nothing nice about my life.

- Cigarette?

- Thanks.

What's the matter?

Nothing.

What do you do here in Grassville?

I have a job.

Just a meal ticket...

till I can save up enough

to get out of here.

- What kind of a job?

- I work in a drug store.

A drug store?

Well, that is a coincidence.

A heck of a coincidence.

I work in a drug store...

and your father owns

a hundred of 'em.

Would you like to meet him?

- Who are you kidding?

- Nobody.

I think Dad

will like you very much.

You're young, healthy,

ambitious...

and you probably know

the drug business upside down.

I wouldn't say that, Leona.

That's nice.

Call me Leona again.

I just work in a drug store.

That's a different thing.

But I like you,

and that's a different thing too.

Like me, like you.

Come on.

We're both acting like a couple

of kids playing cat and mouse.

Besides, what does a dame like you

want with a guy like me?

May I?

Dad is coming to New York

on business next weekend.

I'm cutting my classes on Saturday.

Want to come with me?

I don't quite know how

to say it, Leona...

Well, say it and get it over with.

I'm leaving in a few minutes.

You've been seeing a lot of Henry

in the past few weeks, haven't you?

What about it?

- I just felt I ought to warn you.

- Warn me?

Henry's not the kind of man

to play around with.

Don't play around with him

anymore, please.

Who says I'm playing

around with him?

Well, he's just not your type...

and you know it

as well as I do.

- I like your nerve.

- Henry's poor, Leona.

He's been bitterly poor

all his life.

That wouldn't matter to some boys,

but it does matter to him terribly.

I've known him all my life.

Henry's father was a drunkard.

He'd work one day and drink up

every penny in the house the next.

There were eight children.

So? What has all this got to do

with the price of eggs?

Leona, don't turn his head...

or he'll never be able

to find himself again.

You mean you can't stand

the competition.

- That's not the point.

- Oh, applesauce.

In case you don't know it, I happen

to think a great deal of Henry.

I happen to think he's much

too good for that town of yours.

I never said he wasn't.

And if I want to make something

of him, show him a good time...

introduce him to people,

that's my business.

And if I want to marry him,

that's my business too.

Marry him?

You don't mean that.

You couldn't possibly.

- Why couldn't I?

- Because...

Because I happen to be

in love with him, Leona.

So am I, and I don't go around

rationalizing my emotions either.

When I want something,

I fight for it.

And I usually manage to get it.

But the fellow has nothing, honey.

No background...

no education, no training.

And what did you have when

you started in Amarillo, Texas?

Look, honey, I've spent money

on your education...

taken you abroad, given you

everything in the world.

What do you want

to throw yourself away for?

- I love him.

- Love him? Oh, come on.

If I really thought you did,

you know I'd be the first to...

What's the matter?

You make me laugh.

Why don't you be honest

with yourself just once?

What does it matter to you

if I love him or not?

All you want is for me to stay here

with you for the rest of your life.

Well, honey, what parent doesn't

want to hold on to his child...

until he's sure she has something

better than what he's given her?

Don't be silly.

You've become so dependent on me...

you won't be happy until

I feel the same way about you.

Haven't I always let you do

anything you ever wanted to do?

But marriage is something else.

I've worked hard. I've built up

a big business, just for you.

You yourself wouldn't want to see

some worthless cluck of a husband...

- Leave me alone!

- Leona, don't!

You don't care about me. You think

only of yourself and your business.

You're hateful!

Selfish and hateful!

Don't, please. Try and be calm.

You'll make yourself sick.

What good is your wonderful money

and your business if I'm dead?

That's what you want to do...

drive me into my grave!

But you don't care just as long

as your business is safe!

- How can you say a thing like that?

- Oh, go away!

Don't touch me!

I said, don't touch me!

- Don't you dare touch me!

- Leona, darling.

I'm sorry.

I didn't mean...

We'll talk this over again, dearest.

Maybe we can work something out.

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