The Browning Version Page #8

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- Frank, forgive me. I didn't mean it.

- You'd better learn the truth, Millie.

- No.

When you asked me if I was running

from you, I gave you a wrong answer...

but I was coming to Bradford.

That was going to be the last time

I was ever going to see you.

- At Bradford I would have told you so.

- You wouldn't.

You've tried to tell me so often before,

and I've always stopped you somehow.

- Somehow I'd have stopped you again.

- I don't think so, Millie. Not this time.

Oh, I would. I would.

Frank, I don't care how much

you humiliate me, but I can't let you go.

You're all I've got in this life. I know

you don't give two hoots about me as a person...

but I've never minded

as long as you wanted me as a woman.

You do, don't you? You do.

It'll be all right at Bradford.

You'll see.

I'm not coming to Bradford, Millie.

[ Knock On Door ]

- May I come in?

- What is it?

About Taplow.

What about Taplow?

I'm afraid it's perfectly true

he was imitating you this morning...

but I was to blame for that...

and I'm very sorry.

- Was it a good imitation?

- No.

I expect it was.

Boys are often very clever mimics.

I don't suppose you'll believe this, but

he told me this morning he liked you very much.

Indeed?

So, you see,

I don't think it was appeasement...

that had anything to do

with his giving you that book.

The book? Oh, dear me,

what a lot of fuss about a little book.

I'd like you to believe me.

Probably you would,

my dear Hunter...

but, you see, I am not particularly concerned

with Taplow's views on my character.

Nor with yours either,

if it comes to that.

If I were you,

I should keep that book all the same.

You may find it means

something to you after all.

Exactly.

It will provide me

with a perpetual reminder...

of the scene with which, at this very moment,

Taplow is regaling his friends.

''I say, chaps...

''I gave the Crock a book

to buy him off, and he cried.

''The Crock cried.

I tell you I was there. I saw it.

The Crock cried.''

My mimicry is not quite

as good as his, I fear.

Forgive me.

As this may be the last time I shall ever have

the opportunity of speaking to you alone...

may I give you a piece of advice?

I will be glad to listen to it.

Leave your wife.

So that you may the more easily

carry on your intrigue with her?

How long have you known about that?

Since it began.

How did you find out?

- By information.

- By whose information?

By someone whose word

I could scarcely discredit.

Oh, no.

That's too horrible to think of.

Nothing is too horrible to think of,

my dear Hunter.

It is simply a question of facing facts.

She may have told you a lie.

Have you faced that fact?

She never tells me a lie.

In all the years that I have been married to her,

she has never told me a lie.

Only the truth.

She's out to kill you.

Powdered glass, you mean?

Not that kind of killing.

Something deadlier

than poisoning the body.

The soul? Oh, yes.

In that other sense she is,

as you rightly say...

out to kill me.

That is only another fact

that I have managed to face.

And indeed, I have faced

the more important fact...

that she succeeded

in her purpose long ago.

[ Clock Chiming ]

[ Chattering ]

[ Clears Throat ]

Ladies and gentlemen...

it is my melancholy duty

to propose a toast of farewell and Godspeed...

to our friends,

the Crocker-Harrises.

I am not,you'll be pleased to hear...

going to make a speech,

but merely on your behalf...

to wish them all success...

and great and continued happiness...

in their future life together.

Mr. and Mrs. Crocker-Harris.

The Crocker-Harrises.

Thank you, Headmaster. So kind.

Are you leaving

for Bradford tomorrow, dear lady?

Yes. We shall stay at a hotel

near my uncle's place.

That's, uh, Sir William Bartop.

You may have heard of him?

Indeed. The name sounds

extremely familiar.

Then, of course, Andrew goes off

to his new school on September the 1 st...

and I shall join him there

as soon as he can arrange accommodation.

So I shall be all on my own

for a week or two at least.

Ladies, coffee.

Bring your glasses in with you.

We'll leave the gentlemen

to their cigars and improprieties.

Cigars, yes.

The improprieties we'll leave to the ladies.

Oh,John, dear--

So sorry.

Frank says he can come to us after all.

Isn't that nice?

[John ]

Ah, splendid.

Oh, Mrs. Crocker-Harris...

do tell me about

your husband's new post.

Well, it's in the most pleasant part of--

I'm terribly sorry for her.

I'm afraid I can't agree.

I've always found her quite detestable.

Think how much

she has to contend with, poor dear.

After all, they're complete misfits.

Yes, a marriage of mind and body.

It never has worked

since the world began.

Well, personally, my sympathies in a case like that

are always on the side of the body.

Oh, yes, dear.

I have no doubt.

Now then, what about a quick game

of billiards before the fireworks begin, eh?

You'll play, won't you, Williamson?

I'm afraid I'm hardly

up to your standard, Headmaster.

Nonsense. What about you,

Crocker-Harris?

- Thank you. I don't play.

- Of course not. I forgot. Ha, ha, Hunter.

We all know you're a tiger at the game.

Unworthy of you, sir.

Remember what happened last time we played.

Quite. It'll have to be you, Canon.

Come along, Carstairs.

You can mark for us.

Thank heavens we have better weather

for the fireworks this year.

Canon, I'll give you 20.

You can start.

Gentlemen, I leave you the port,

the brandy and each other.

What could be pleasanter?

[ Door Closes ]

I want you to believe that

I am more ashamed for what has happened...

and for the part I played in it,

than I've ever been in my life before.

I'm not asking you to forgive me...

because I find it so very hard

to forgive myself.

But I'd like to tell you this.

When I told you to leave your wife...

it had nothing whatever

to do with me.

Whatever you choose to do,

I've already decided never to set eyes on her again.

That hardly seems to me

a very chivalrous decision, if I may say so.

Nor does the course you urge on me.

Forget chivalry, Crock,

for heaven's sake.

You must leave her.

It's your only chance.

She's my wife, Hunter.

You seem to forget that.

So long as she wishes

to remain my wife, she may.

But why won't you leave her?

Because I should not wish

to add another grave wrong...

to the one I have already done her.

What wrong have you done her?

To marry her.

You see, my dear Hunter...

she is really quite as much

to be pitied as I am.

We are both of us interesting subjects

for your microscope...

both of us needing something from the other

to make life supportable for us...

and... neither of us able to give it.

Two kinds of love,

hers and mine.

Worlds apart, as I know now...

though when I married her...

I did not think

that they were incompatible.

Nor, I suppose, did she.

In those days I --

I had not thought that her kind of love --

the kind of love she requires and

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