The V.I.P.s Page #6

...I don't think I really had a soul to sell.

- And now you have.

- Yes.

- I think so.

- Restored to you by Frances.

I love her, Paul.

The only woman in my life

I ever have loved.

If that sort of love

means I have a soul...

...then a soul is what I have.

And how much more expensive

is this newly acquired soul of yours?

Look, don't waste the paper.

A million couldn't buy me.

I mean it.

What did you mean just now about

something being the way I've lost my wife?

This.

- Anything wrong in being generous?

- Oh, yes. Oh, yes.

I've been on the receiving end

most of my life...

...so I know what I'm talking about.

Generosity is a killer.

Checkbook generosity.

It... It kills your pride, you see.

- I remember...

- We were talking about my wife.

Yes.

Well, she loved your parting present.

She's loved every present

you've given her that I know of.

And Lord knows,

there have been enough.

- Well?

- Well, it's just that I think...

...that she'd rather have had

the odd toy duck from Woolworths...

...provided she knew

you'd chosen it yourself.

Why you?

I was around.

And I loved her.

Makes no sense.

No, it doesn't make much

to me either, but it's true.

Gigolo.

A buffoon.

A professional diner-outer.

- A notorious sponger!

- All right. All right, say it all...

...if it's going to make you

feel any better.

It was all true, anyway, once.

But don't use that thing.

Killing me won't get your wife back.

It would stop it being you

who takes her away from me.

Yes, it would do that.

But isn't it better for you

that it should be me?

Think of the sympathy

you'll get from everyone.

"Not with Marc Champselle.

With anyone else, possibly,

but not with Marc Champselle.

She must be mad."

Like you said, Joey the Clown.

You've got my sympathy too, you know.

I suppose in the circumstances,

that's a dangerous thing to say.

It would almost make me shoot

if I were sitting there...

...but it's true.

And...

...l'm in the mood for truth.

I have your hotel reservation.

On the top floor,

one of the very few suites.

Wickedly overcrowded tonight,

but, of course, as it's you...

- Thank you very much.

- Mr. Champselle, I have a room for you too.

- A single one, I'm happy to say.

- And I'm happy to hear.

If you knew about the crush.

They're having to double up

all single parties.

But I am not a single party.

Oh, is that so?

I rather thought that you were.

Shall I order you a taxi, Madam Andros?

- Well...

- Yes, yes.

Do order a taxi for Madam Andros.

Your husband's gone.

- You saw him?

- Yes.

- Did you speak to him?

- Yes.

But Paul wouldn't have gone. He...

He just wouldn't have given up like that.

- What did you say to him?

- The right things, apparently.

I'll tell them to you later when my heart's

got back some sort of rhythm.

Feel it.

I had the gun to face, you see.

And you know me,

I'm not exactly Wyatt Earp. Come.

- And he's gone?

- How often do I have to tell you?

The danger's over. We're safe.

- Are you sure this is the right hotel?

- Yes, madam.

Thank you.

- Good night.

- Good night, ma'am.

I suppose you'd have no idea

where room 509 is.

Well, some idea, madam, yes.

I mean, it'll be on the fifth floor.

Well, you don't seem very sure.

It's the room I've been allocated,

so I'm told.

Oh, yes, of course, Your Grace.

- Page.

- Yes, sir?

- Show Her Grace to room 509.

- This way, madam.

- Madam Andros?

- Yes.

This is indeed a very great pleasure,

although I can hardly expect you to feel so.

However, if you'll allow me,

I'll show you straight to your suite.

- It's our best, naturally.

- Thank you very much.

- This is Mr. Champselle.

- Yes, you're in 410.

I'll have your things sent up.

Will you follow me, madam?

The line to Borehamwood

is temporarily out of order.

Can somebody please tell me

how it is possible...

...for a telephone

to be disordered by a fog?

- Oh, more frost than fog, I'd say.

- What a country.

A nip of frost, a whiff of fog...

...and chaos is coming in. How much?

- How you know I lose?

- How much?

- He's only kidding you.

- In three hands?

She's a genius.

- I must say, I feel a bit uncomfortable.

- After what the fog is costing me...

...this is a mere drop in the ocean.

- Oh, some business deal you've missed?

- Tax. Full tax. English tax.

- But surely your accountant's...

- My accountant has lost himself...

...somewhere in the woods

called Boreham...

...with his telephone frozen.

Frances, it's Paul.

I've come to take you home.

A joke in the worst possible taste.

My jokes always are.

I thought we might be needing this.

Oh, yes, yes.

They've done Madam Andros proud,

all right.

Well, you'd better appreciate it

while you can.

Mrs. Champselle isn't going to get

this sort of treatment.

Oh, I don't know. That depends

on Mr. Champselle, doesn't it?

You don't expect me

to control banks and steelworks, do you?

Why not? He started from nothing.

- How?

- Oh, don't ask me how.

How do people do these things?

By wanting something enough, I suppose.

Being ruthless enough...

...and charming enough.

Crooked enough?

- I wouldn't know.

- And if you did, you wouldn't say.

Very nice.

No. No, I'm afraid I'm not cut out

to be a Paul Andros...

...and I doubt if the wife

of an aging and penniless gigolo...

...will rate a suite like this.

That word seems to have stuck

in your throat a bit.

"Gigolo" or "aging"?

Not aging. We're all aging.

Yes. "Gigolo" does hurt.

I suppose because it's kind of true.

I have made love to women for...

Not for money.

Really. Really, not for money...

...or for what I could get out of it, but...

- Well...

- Well?

For fun. It's true.

I'm just one of nature's

layabouts, I suppose.

Born into the world with no money...

...a horror of a steady job.

- And...

- Invincible charm.

- I love you very deeply, you know.

- Good.

But you haven't told me why.

You so much want looking after.

And I so much want to look after you.

But you told me

you hadn't a bean of your own.

Is that what "looking after"

means to you?

I didn't mean that kind.

What kind?

- Love.

- Oh, well, that's fine.

It makes the world go round, I'm told.

But it doesn't help us eat.

Yes. A steady job, then?

I'm afraid so. For me too, perhaps.

Certainly not. My wife doesn't work.

And what does she do?

Raise children, love me.

I've got some ideas for myself.

- I've told them to you.

- Yes, you have.

Meanwhile, to tide us over...

...how much loot have you brought?

Just this.

You didn't leave it all behind?

But not all,

not down to the last zircon?

Fur coats?

That one.

Now, isn't that just typical of you.

Darling...

...I adore you.

Well, you've still got that parting present.

And that.

- I'm not going to sell these.

- No?

Well, you're probably right.

Well, I'll have to think up

something rather quick, then, won't I?

I can still play golf down to scratch.

I wonder if I could turn pro at my age.

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