Britannia Mews (1949)

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Britannia Mews was the name

of the alley...

...which lay close behind our house

in Albion Place.

When I was a little girl...

I used to sit for hours with

my cousin Alice...

...at my window in the back

of the big house.

We were fascinated by the strange

sights and sounds.

By the people, the stablemen,

and the others who lived there.

I had never set foot in the Mews,

that was strictly forbidden.

Until the day cousin Alice dared me to.

Addie! I didn't really mean to.

You mustn't!

I was never one to refuse a dare.

Why, Miss Adelaide!

Should you be here?

- Good morning, miss.

- Good morning to you.

And where are you bound, miss?

To the end of the Mews and back.

Come back, come back!

Little girl, would you like a penny?

Here's a penny for you.

You should say thank you.

Well? I saw it all.

It served you very well.

- I didn't do a thing to her, she...

- She's a wicked, vicious child.

And you only got what you deserved

for going near her.

Why? She can keep the grounds.

Because she lives in the Mews.

What I'm going to do to punish you

for your deliberate disobedience, Adelaide...

You said I was already punished.

You said I got what I deserved.

Well!

You never think of me.

What do you suppose your father

and mother would think...

...if they knew you'd been into Britannia

Mews while I was looking after you?

We won't tell them.

As the years passed, I could never

get the Mews out of my mind.

Almost as if I could sense how it was

to be bound up with my whole life.

I made it the subject of my

first drawing.

Those were the days when all

well-brought-up young ladies...

...were taught some graceful

accomplishment.

And cousin Alice and I were

very well brought up.

Very gratifying, Miss Culver,

for a first lesson. Quite gratifying.

But since there's always room

for improvement,

even in those of us whose

whole soul is devoted to Art,

let us put this aside for

future comparison.

A remarkable effort, Miss Hambro,

remarkable.

If this is a measure of your full talent,

there is no telling what to expect.

Ah, the hour is of three,

to paraphrase Mr. Browning.

How fleeting the moments pass

amid beauty.

You can't really call our drawings

beautiful, Mr. Lambert.

I was not speaking of your work,

dear young ladies.

Nonetheless, I must not linger.

My aunt, stern mistress that she is,

grudges me these trivial hours.

Isn't giving drawing lessons

your profession, Mr. Lambert?

Please don't misunderstand me,

Miss Culver,

I consider it part of my mission

as an artist...

...to spread the light to sensitive young

ladies of good families such as yourselves,

but I have a higher obligation to put

what is in my heart...

...on canvas for the whole world.

- Good afternoon, Miss Hambro.

- Good afternoon, Mr. Lambert.

Miss Culver.

I'm going to practice three hours every

day and surprise him next week.

You never used to care very much for

drawing when Miss Bryant tried to teach you.

Oh, Miss Bryant.

Mr. Lambert's rather handsome,

isn't he?

Do you think so? I wasn't sure.

It's so hard to get a good idea

of what they're really like...

...unless you look them straight

in the face.

And if you do, heaven knows

what they think.

Try watching him when he's

showing me something.

That's what I did.

Why, that's Mr. Lambert.

- Does he live in the Mews?

- Our old coachman's quarters.

They've been empty ever since

we gave up our coach.

Papa suggested it when he said

he wanted some cheap...

...some inexpensive lodgings.

He lets him use the stables

as studios.

He'd be quite a presentable young man,

I suppose,

if he did something respectable.

Sold shares, you mean,

like Mr. Baker?

There's no reason for you to be nasty

about Mr. Baker, Addie.

Just because he happens

to think I'm pretty.

- Do you love him, Alice?

- I don't know yet.

He hasn't asked me.

I hoped, oh so passionately,

that I was improving.

Wednesday was the important day,

for then, Mr. Lambert would make

his weekly visit.

But one particular Wednesday

my parents were away...

...and cousin Alice was down

with her autumn cold.

So Mr. Lambert was notified

not to come.

Mayn't I come in?

Oh... of course.

Only I thought...

You see, I wasn't expecting...

Didn't Johnny Hambro bring

you a note?

- What note?

- Oh, dear, how could he have missed you?

A message from my cousin Alice.

She has a cold.

Oh, I'm sorry to hear that.

So you see, there won't be

a drawing lesson today.

Oh, I don't understand how

he could have missed you.

I was walking in the gardens all morning,

I expect he came after I left.

But Mama is out too.

Haven't you some drawings

for me to see?

Oh... uh, yes.

Mr. Lambert, we can't have the drawing

lesson. Alice is not here.

Have you really never been alone

with a man before?

Of course I have, dozens of times, but...

Well, always at dances or

picnics where...

Where there were rescuers nearby

if you had to cry for help.

Mr. Lambert, if you think that I'm afraid

that you're going to do me some harm,

it's not that at all.

It's merely...

Merely convention in polite society

which requires a chaperone.

Do you think that's sufficient reason

to send me packing now that I have come?

No. It is rather silly, really.

But I suppose many conventions are.

Will you tell me something, Miss Culver?

What made you decide you should

have drawing lessons?

I didn't decide. Mama and Papa did.

But naturally, I...

One must have some accomplishments.

Yes, I suppose so.

So many young ladies give so much time

to their drawing lessons and music.

I wonder what good it does

them later.

Some of your friends are already

married, I suppose.

I'm not sure that's a very polite

question, Mr. Lambert.

Isn't it? I simply meant I wonder what

they do in the evenings...

...when they're at home with

their husbands.

Do they draw pictures for them,

or sing?

Of course if you think I don't have

any talent,

I shall tell Papa and he can stop paying

you for my drawing lessons.

Of course if we've been

made complete...

Adelaide.

...fools.

I'd rather die than to hurt

your feelings.

I've hated deceiving you.

Why have you?

Can't you guess why?

If I hadn't told a few lies how the deuce

was I to see you?

I'm not the sort of man your mother

would ask to dinner.

By giving you lessons I was certain

of at least once a week.

You're... you're not still angry with me.

Has anyone ever told you

you're very beautiful?

No, and I'm not.

Oh, yes you are. To an artist.

You're like a Holbein.

You're also like a sleeping princess.

Now what ever are you going

to do with me?

- I'm going to tell Mama, of course.

- Oh, no, you wouldn't do that.

When I knew Miss Hambro wouldn't be here

and I thought you would,

nothing could have kept me away.

- But you didn't get the note.

- Oh, yes, I did.

But we can't pretend that you

didn't receive the note.

You can say I insisted on coming

because I didn't want to lose my fee.

And you wouldn't let me stay

because you thought it improper.

It is improper, isn't it?

Very improper.

You'd better go now to make

it convincing.

Yes, I suppose so, deplorable as

the project seems.

But... you haven't decided when

we shall se each other again.

I'll be back Wednesday week,

But Alice's autumn cold never lasts

more than three or four days.

Well, I have lessons every

afternoon and...

...in the morning I have my work.

But couldn't we... there's so much

I want to say.

How would Tuesday morning be?

I shall go for a walk in St. James's Park

after breakfast as far as the bridge.

Very good for one's health,

a morning walk. I shall do likewise.

Goodbye, Adelaide.

Dear Mr. Lambert.

Harold!

Henry.

Henry.

- Good morning, Miss Culver.

- Why, Mr. Lambert!

I said I was going for a walk in the park.

Mama didn't ask any questions,

just told me to be careful.

Adelaide...

Don't talk about last week unless

you want to.

- What do you mean?

- Well, I...

I thought you might want

to forget all about it.

How ever could I forget?

I meant when you came

to think it over, you...

It changed my whole life.

Henry... if you mean that

you regret, I...

Oh, no.

Oh, no, no.

I only meant, my dear,

if you have any regrets,

I'd behave as if anothing

had happened.

I'm not a man to take advantage

of a moment's lightheartedness.

It wasn't lighthearted.

You mustn't think I'm that kind of girl.

I don't know what kind of

a girl you are.

I've never met anyone like you.

Addie.

Mama?

Be seated, Addie. We've some

important news for you.

Your papa is going to retire.

Oh, Papa, I'm so happy for you.

Well, we've been short of space

at the office for some time now.

Seemed to be no solution to the problem

till my partners offered to buy my share.

Naturally it means our income will be less,

but you're a grown-up now...

...and your brother is going

to Cambridge next year.

So we've decided to move

into the country.

Move into the country?

But, Mama, we can't.

Oh, I know you'll miss your

friends, dear.

But you'll soon make others.

Indeed, I sometimes think a girl has better

chances in the country than in town.

Mrs. Horton has found a lovely

place for us in Farnham.

- Farnham?

- A little house called Platt's End.

We shall be moving in a week.

There's a pretty room you can

have at the back.

Well, I do think you might show

a little enthusiasm, Addie.

Mama, Papa, there's something

I want to tell you.

I want to get married.

- Oh-h*!

- Adelaide, my dear!

Do you mean that a young man

is coming to see your papa?

He will if it's necessary, it's...

- It's Mr. Lambert.

- Good heavens!

If you mean that Mr. Lambert has

made you an offer, Adelaide,

then it was a piece of great impertinence.

I don't consider it impertinent,

why should I?

Because he's a young man without any means

and probably without any character.

Just because he isn't famous yet. You can

tell by his face that he's a great artist.

And you must admit that he's very

distinguished-looking.

- Isn't he, Papa?

- How the deuce should I know?

I read the fellow's references,

I don't think I ever looked at his face.

How can he be distinguished-looking when we

know perfectly well he has no distinction?

I'm afraid you must have been

rather silly, my dear.

But as, of course, he won't come here again

and we shall very soon have left town,

the best thing we can do is

to forget all about it.

- Papa...

- You're not to bother your father.

He has quite enough on his

mind as it is.

Papa, I'm over 21 and I'm going to marry

Mr. Lambert because I love him.

- Nonsense, Addie.

- Adelaide!

You're not to see Mr. Lambert again.

- You're treating me like a child.

- You behave like a child.

Most girls have their fits of silliness.

And the drawing master

is usually the object.

But, Mama, this is different.

My dear, in a year's time when

you're properly married,

you'll see that all this is

extraordinarily commonplace

One might almost say vulgar.

I love Mr. Lambert and he loves me.

And we're going to be married.

- Bertha, dear...

- Sit down.

Oh.

Oh, Henry.

Oh, Henry, I should never have come.

This is the wickedest thing I've

ever done.

Dear girl, it was your own idea.

You said in your note something

terrible had happened.

Oh, it has, it's just dreadful.

We're moving into the country.

Mama's found a house in Farnham.

A place called Platt's End.

Oh, that does make it a bit

awkward, doesn't it?

It would do us no good to speak

to your father before you go.

I shan't be able to show him

my future by then.

I've already spoken to Papa.

You...

What did he say?

Nothing, really. He was quite

taken aback, of course.

Didn't he forbid you to see me again?

Didn't he propose some sort

of violence against me?

Papa isn't like that at all. I tell you,

he didn't say either yes or no.

Perhaps I should have a crack at him,

feel him out, see how he takes to me.

No, no, I think it would be better if we

got married first and then talk to him.

Married?

Well, that's impossible.

- Don't you love me, Henry?

- Oh, you're the sweetest...

Oh, then that's all that matters.

We'll be married.

My dear girl...

You must listen very carefully.

It's... it's not an easy thing

for a man to...

...to bear his soul.

You're going to disillusion me now,

aren't you?

No.

I'm going to tell you all the reasons

why we cannot be married.

First, my income from drawing

lessons is hardly enough to...

- I have a hundred pounds a year.

- Have you?

We could live on that for six

months, couldn't we?

In Britannia Mews yes.

That would give you time to finish

your academy painting.

Adelaide, please, I must go on.

Didn't you notice something strange

about me when we met just now,

that I was trembling a little?

You weren't really. I upset you

by telling you that I was frightened.

No, I was shaky.

Shaky because I'd had about

four drinks too many.

I don't know what you mean.

I drink too much, I get drunk.

I mean...

If you walk through the Mews

and listen to my enemies,

they'll tell you I drink like a fish.

They'll tell you I'm no good.

I'm not interested in low gossip.

I know enough of what's true

about you.

And I can guess the rest.

But you don't know what

the Mews is like.

You don't know what it means

to live in the slum.

It hasn't hardened you as much

as you'd like me to believe.

Ordinary men can't rise above

their backgrounds.

But great artists can.

We'll be married.

- We'll be married.

- By special license.

That's the best way.

I looked it up in Whitaker.

You get it at the vicar general's office

in Doctors' Commons between ten and four.

- Ten and four.

- Oh!

We should get it the day before

I'm supposed to move.

Then I can start for Farnham with

Mama and Papa,

make an excuse at the station...

and meet you at the registrar's office.

Did you happen to find out

how much it costs?

Three pounds seven and six-pence.

Isn't that a small price to pay

for heaven?

Heaven.

Scrubbing floors was one of the things

I hadn't thought of there in the park.

In those first few weeks of marriage...

I cooked and I cleaned and I furnished

our home from little odds and ends.

It was worth it.

Our hopes were high, because Henry

was hard at work on his masterpiece.

I even posed for him when he

wanted me to.

Don't her back don't give up?

She's been cleaning ever since she moved in.

You might find an example in her.

Look who's talking that lives

in a pigsty.

- Good morning, Mrs. Blazer.

- My name's Harriet O'Keefe.

There's them that call me the Blazer.

But not ladies don't!

I can just hear your

mother saying...

...a young matron must establish

relations with her neighbors.

Don't let me disturb you, dear. I just

came down to get some clean water.

Don't stand on that. The cover's

not strong enough.

- But it's hard for...

- I'll do it.

You'd think you'd realize a basket

like that is not made to stand on.

You haven't told me what's in it

that's so valuable.

Just relics. Forget them.

You make me feel like bluebeard's wife.

Is there some secret in your life

that I mustn't know about?

Dolls! Is that what you've been

making all the fuss about?

They're not dolls, they're puppets.

Those happen to be works of art.

Created by your husband.

Like them?

It must have taken months to make.

Two years, in Paris.

Those were the fullest, most creative

years of my life.

I was young then. Young, and g*y,

and full of hope and in...

...in Paris.

Anyway, these are the only claim

to fame I have today.

There's a complete set of Moli?re

characters here.

Fame.

Are you going to get a Punch and Judy

cart like the man across the road...

...and do shows for children?

I'm not a puppeteer.

And even if I were,

nobody in England would

appreciate them any more than you.

I'm almost finished upstairs

if you need me to pose.

I told you I'd call you if I needed you. You

mustn't hurry me or prod me in any way.

That's the death blow to the

creative impulse.

I'm sorry, Henry.

But it is discouraging to see the days go by

and you're no further along with this.

I've been considering a basic

change in composition.

Perhaps two figures are not enough

for a work of this size.

Possibly you should have a lady

in waiting or something.

Another change?

Yes, another change.

I can't visualize the way I should

being cooped up in here like this.

I think I shall go for a stroll and see

if I can get some fresh inspiration.

Do try to be inspired as quickly

as possible, Henry.

I can't help it. Every time I see her

she frightens me.

Every village has its witch.

The Sow is ours.

Shall the old one carry that pail

upstairs for you, Mrs. Lambert?

Thank you, but it's not heavy.

In those days I rarely left the Mews.

Until one day an urgent letter arrived from

my brother Treff and cousin Alice...

asking that I meet them

at Grummol's for tea.

It was the first time I had heard from any

member of my family since my marriage.

Of course Henry has more connections

than he knows what to do with.

But sometimes he turns them all down

just to paint something of his own choosing.

Oh, thank you.

It's too bad, Alice, that neither

of our husbands could be here today.

Though I suppose they don't have

very much in common.

Likely not. I only know my brother-in-law

from what I've heard about him, of course.

But I don't think he sounds like

Freddie's sort.

I never dreamed things could turn out

so that you and I couldn't be friends.

It isn't exactly ordained from heaven

that we can't be, you know.

Oh, Addie, I can't come calling on you.

Freddie is so nervous.

Always afraid that I'll catch something.

We'd be delighted to see you

at our house.

Mama and Papa are terribly anxious

for you to visit us too.

With my husband?

My sister always had a habit of coming

very directly to the point.

It's about time somebody did,

don't you think?

Ever since I got your note I could smell

a family conference at the back of it.

What does Mama want?

- For you to come home.

- Get a divorce, you mean?

You know perfectly well Mama wouldn't

think of doing such a thing.

But it's quite possible for a woman

to leave her husband decently if...

Well, if the marriage isn't working out.

You can tell Mama that mine

is working out perfectly.

I'd be happier just to see the look

on her face.

Oh, by the way, I'm supposed

to give you this teletype...

...they've take of the house at Farnham.

Mama remembered that you

hadn't seen the place.

Well, I suppose this is rather the end

of the party, don't you think?

I know I should be getting home.

Goodbye, Alice. I think you've made it

quite clear how you feel.

But I'm not so sure about you, Treff.

Well, it wasn't my idea at all

this whole thing.

I didn't go for it a bit.

Shall I see you again?

Oh, now, Addie.

You know I'm not my own master

when I'm down from Cambridge and...

Well, I very rarely come up

to London anyway...

Hello.

- Where's my husband?

- Went out for a drink, he said.

Been gone for hours.

How good of you to wait for him.

Especially when he's been

working you so hard.

I don't mind, dearie.

I think he's fun.

How much does he pay you to model?

He don't pay me. I like modeling.

I think you should be paid.

Here's two shillings for you.

Little girl, here's a penny for you.

Remember saying that when we was kids?

- Take it!

- I done nothing for you then.

And I ain't done nothing for you now.

Take it!

Henry, I will not have wood chips

in the flat too.

Take your useless puppets downstairs

where they belong.

Little wife. Little home.

You don't see the joke, do you?

They do down at the Red Lion.

You 've been talking about me

at the Red Lion?

I told them you were the best

little wife in the world.

Am I?

Henry, I want to leave the Mews.

Go ahead. I told you not to come

in the first place.

Tried my best to stop you,

but you would do it.

I must have been mad.

That's what I thought.

I never was more surprised

at anything in my life.

Henry.

I wasn't talking about us.

I was talking about... about this place,

about the Mews.

It's the same thing.

You mean...

Didn't you expect me to marry you?

Of course not.

If every girl I kissed expected

to marry me...

Hm, what's this?

"Drink No More".

How much of this stuff have

you given me?

You can see for yourself.

I noticed the coffee tasted worse than

usual. I suppose this is the answer.

Colorless and odorless, it's guaranteed.

My dear, if you had told me in advance,

I could have saved you a half a crown.

I'll get rid of it for you.

A little experiment, my dear.

I shall now drink an equal

quantity of gin.

Addie.

Addie.

Why did you marry me?

Because I loved you.

And I wanted to help you.

But now I see that I was foolish.

And you don't love me.

Love not stronger than death

and all that?

I don't know.

I don't know what I feel.

Shame.

Henry, tell me the truth.

Did you make love to all

of your pupils?

Certainly not. Some of them

were positively repulsive.

But...

But that first day when you came

and Alice had her cold,

it was because you were

in love with me.

Wasn't it?

The truth, Henry!

All right, all right, you shall

have the truth.

You had it then.

It was what you told your mother.

I came because I could see no reason

why I should lose my fee.

I couldn't afford to lose two pupils

and all of this came of it.

It was all your doing, Adelaide,

not mine.

If you find the truth bitter,

my dear, don't ask for it.

I'll wind the clock.

Household is always winding clocks.

You didn't mean that, Henry,

you're drunk.

Of course I'm drunk, my dear,

but I meant it.

In vino veritas.

Open the door.

Open up. A wife has no right

to lock the door on her husband.

Mr. and Mrs. Lambert occupied

separate rooms.

I see you didn't wait for me

for breakfast.

Nor for luncheon.

A wife should wait for her husband.

You've changed, Addie. You're getting

hard, it doesn't become you.

Read this.

I can't without a magnifying glass.

I had to write small to fit it

all in the card.

I'll read it to you.

Mr. and Mrs. Henry Lambert announce

their drawing lessons...

...will reopen on July 1st at studio

number 2, Britannia Mews.

Hours two to six p.m.

- Terms, two guineas a course of six lessons.

- Now, what's this all about?

Henry, you're going to have

to take pupils again in the studio.

I'll look after them for you. All you have

to do is walk around and criticize.

Addie, you're out of your mind.

If I ever see another fool

with a drawing board again, I...

I won't be responsible for

my actions.

But Henry, we've got to do something.

You haven't looked at your

drawing in months.

The only work you've done at all

is on those ridiculous puppets.

I've got less than ten pounds

left in the bank.

Am I going to get breakfast here

or do I have to go to the Red Lion?

Henry, listen to me.

Why shouldn't you try?

You're young, we're both young.

Are we never to hold our

heads up again?

Henry!

You said I've grown cold.

But I had to, I couldn't endure

this place.

I've had to shut myself out from everybody

and everything I ever knew.

Not even answer my mother

when she writes to me.

The more fool you. If you did,

you might get some money from her.

Oh! Come quickly!

Quick, he's fallen down!

He must have fallen from the terrace.

Did somebody knock him down?

Stand back

Your husband?

Yes.

Your name?

Mrs. Henry Lambert.

Can you make any statement

as to how it happened?

- Did he fall or was he pushed?

- Silence there!

I seen it all.

Your name?

Mrs. Mouncey, number 9.

Rags and old clothes.

You saw it, eh?

On me oath.

I was in me door way opposite.

I seed them standing, he pushed passed

her and missed his footing.

I'd have been down sooner,

but I move heavy.

Accidental death it was.

Poor soul.

Go to the station, tell them to send

an ambulance and a sergeant.

Move on, lad.

Move on.

Mrs. Lambert, ma'am, if you wish to

go indoors, I'll...

She didn't ought to be left alone.

Can you send for any relation?

- I have no relations.

- No, but she has friends.

I'm her friend, ain't I, dearie?

It's cold dearie.

Come to see what I can do.

Make you a nice cup of tea, eh?

No, thank you.

I got me papers just now, I did,

for the coroner's hearing.

I suppose he'll do a lot for us.

The summons to the inquest, you mean?

Yes, I did.

Naughty business.

But don't you worry, dearie.

I'll make it sound all right for you.

Why should I worry?

It was an accident.

It's the talk.

I'm your friend, I am.

Going to help you out of your trouble.

I've got too many troubles of me own,

it's hard to think of anything else.

It's very kind of you to be

concerned about me.

I appreciate it.

The pains in me chest, oh God,

you couldn't know, dearie.

Or that bed.

Can I have a doctor to ever

look at me poor old heart...

...in all these rags and old clothes?

Oh, no.

I'm sorry, I wish there were

something I could do for you.

Two months behind in the rent I am.

Going to be thrown into the streets.

I have a little money in the bank

that I don't need now.

I should like to write you a check

for five pounds if I may.

Why, it's the dearest, sweetest

thing I ever heard.

Right in the middle of your own

loss and misery.

An angel from heaven, Mrs. Lambert.

That's how I'll think of you from now on.

An angel from heaven.

Heaven was gone.

The coroner wrote it's end

when he closed the inquest...

...with the verdict of accidental death.

Something in me had died too.

Now I could only think of...

...of home.

- You've been packing up.

- Yes, I'm going home.

I did want to see you,

Mrs. Mouncey.

There are some things down in the

coach house, they may be of use.

I should like you to have them.

Some old clothes and books.

If there's anything up here...

take what you like.

In fact, why don't you stay

and look around while I go for a cab?

Come here!

I'm sorry, but there's so little time

if I'm to catch my train.

You ain't going nowhere's,

you're staying here.

Staying here?

I've grown a fancy to you.

That's very kind of you.

A real fancy.

If I hadn't took such a fancy to you,

would I have said what I did say in the box?

If you mean what I think you do,

you're accusing yourself of perjury.

Do you know what the penalty

for that is?

Better than being hanged

by the neck till you're dead.

You leave perjury alone and take it

as I done you a good turn.

All you did was tell the truth.

If I'd have told the truth, dearie...

If I had told how I seed you push

your poor husband to his death.

My husband fell.

That's what I told them.

But you know and I know

you k*lled him.

That isn't true.

And nobody would believe you.

They'll believe me right enough...

when I show them the check

what you gave me...

...the very same day you done him in.

What do you want?

Ten bob a week.

Eight.

Ten.

Very well.

But not because I have anything

to be afraid of.

Because I'm grateful to you for...

...for your kindness.

I'll send you ten shillings every week.

Not send it, dearie,

give it like now, here.

My dear Mrs. Mouncey,

I can't possibly come up to London every

week to bring you ten shillings.

You'll have no call to.

You're staying here.

I was never one for travelling,

but I can find me way to Surrey

if I has to.

Who knows your people might

have room for me too?

From hereon to hell we'll

not be parted.

Just you say, dearie, which it's to be.

Have you made up your mind yet?

- William.

- Yes, my dear.

I'm going to London to see Adelaide.

- Adelaide?

- Yes. I had a dream about her last night.

So I looked up the calendar and last week

was her third wedding anniversary.

- Leather!

- What?

The third wedding anniversary

the gift must be of leather.

Oh.

It's time we gave her a last

chance to come home.

Yes, dear.

At least she should know

we're ready to forgive her...

...at any moment she decides

to leave her husband

Give her my love.

Wait for me, please.

- You wanted to see someone?

- My daughter, Mrs. Lambert.

- Is she at home, do you know?

- Moved out a year ago.

Oh, dear, I hadn't heard.

You don't happen to know their

present address, I suppose.

She didn't leave none. Cleared out

sudden-like with narry a word to anybody.

How could she?

Thank you very much.

Mrs. Mouncey.

Yes, dearie?

Were you talking to somebody down here?

Nothing to bother your head about.

Still, if anybody was to come

looking after you,

I'll take it you don't want no

interfering with.

No, I wouldn't.

Here, take these books back to the shop

on Spring St. and fetch me two more.

Ask the woman to choose

them for me.

Go fetch your own books,

I ain't your servant.

- I pay you, don't I?

- Not to run your errands, you don't.

I pay you ten shillings a week

and I expect some service for it.

Here!

All right, you old fool, do as you like.

But it's not so likely you'll find anybody

to pay you as much as I do...

- ...and ask so little for it.

- Hold on there.

No call to talk so nasty among friends.

I'll do it for you this once.

You'll do it as many times I tell you

if you know what's good for you.

Not so nasty, I says!

I don't mind doing you a favor

now and then.

But it ain't on account

of your paying me.

Why then?

I'll tell you, dearie. I'm a woman

what's never had a child.

I got one now.

You.

I'd as soon be mothered

by a hippopotamus.

Get along with you and do as you're told.

And on your way back past the Red Lion

bring back four-penny worth of gin.

And so I became part of

Britannia Mews.

As much a part of it as the Sow,

the Blazer and all the rest of them.

I forgot how to hope.

And as time passed, I knew that I would

be part of the Mews for the rest of my life.

You don't there, are you hurt?

If you're not hurt, why don't

you get up?

I beg your pardon! I had no idea

there were ladies present.

May I call you a cab?

No.

No, thank you, I...

I don't need a cab.

Will you tell me, please.

How do you propose to get home?

This is my home. This is where I live,

here in Britannia Mews.

Please forgive me.

You can't imagine how extraordinarily

interesting it is...

...to find someone like you here.

My name is Lauderdale,

Gilbert Lauderdale.

- What's the matter?

- Nothing.

My name is Mrs... Lambert.

How do you do?

You remind me of someone I once knew.

Oh, I'm always reminding people

of someone else.

I suppose I have no personality

of my own.

You know, in this light the Mews

is quite picturesque.

That's what my husband used to say.

He passed away two years ago.

You oughtn't to live here alone.

I have no choice.

When there's, as you say, no choice,

you take the first step and the rest follows.

I am the sot you see before you

because I had no choice.

- You're not drunk now.

- Of course I am.

I have a remarkable faculty for

appearing sober.

When I was an actor...

I used to start a scene stewed,

and finish in full command.

However my managers did not

think it good enough.

Shall I go on with my life?

There's hardly any more to tell.

Please go on.

Before that, of course,

I studied for the law and...

...at the moment I address envelopes

at two and six per thousand.

My feet may betray me,

but my hand remains steady.

And you...

You married unwisely.

Now something has happened to prevent

you returning to your family.

You have the dignity of a woman

with a pitifully small income...

...and you don't drink much.

How did you know that?

That you drink a little because

of your humane attitude...

...when I was thrown out of the pub.

You're a most remarkable woman,

Mrs. Lambert.

What a horrible creature.

She's known as the Sow.

She's hateful.

See you in the morning, dearie.

Monday.

May I come in for a moment?

That's the first time in three years

anyone opened a door for me.

I was just going to make some tea.

- Would you like some?

- Oh, no, thank you.

It's much too late for a social call

even in Britannia Mews.

I... I just wanted a glimpse inside.

Hm-hmm.

It matches.

- Matches what?

- It matches you.

Well ordered, unpretentious,

right to the point.

And cheerful in the face

of heavy odds.

We have moments, my flat and I,

when we're not so cheerful.

The mystery to me is why

you stay here at all.

Well... may I come again?

- If you wish.

- Thank you.

Well, good night.

Mr. Lauderdale, where

do you live?

There's a sheltered bench

by Blackfriar's Bridge...

...to which I have a squatter's right.

If you like, you may sleep in the

coach house downstairs.

I'm sure it will be every bit

as comfortable as Blackfriar's Bridge.

What beautiful puppets.

My... my husband's hobby.

I suppose I should have given them away

to some children's home or something, but...

...somehow I never have.

But my dear Mrs. Lambert,

these are superb.

Give them away? Look at this.

If you mean that they represent a great

waste of time, then I'll agree with you.

Mr. Lauderdale,

you said you'd been a barrister.

I wonder could you give me

some legal advice.

Oh, I'm full of advice.

I can't guarantee it'll be sound.

The only client I ever had

is still in prison.

Writes me letters all the time.

Very unfriendly.

This is about what I suppose

one would call blackmail.

That woman?

Yes, the Sow.

Her name is Mrs. Mouncey.

Hello, dearie.

Didn't know you had company, dearie.

- I'll come back later.

- No, Mrs. Mouncey, don't go.

There's something I want to say to you.

You've come for your ten shillings and...

- You want him to hear?

- Certainly.

And I don't.

He's a stranger to me and I don't

do business before strangers.

What are you doing here anyway?

Who is he?

He's a witness to the fact

that I am no longer...

...going to pay you ten

shillings a week.

I'm also a lawyer.

And I've informed Mrs. Lambert she can

prosecute you for blackmail.

A lawyer? Well, he looks like a lawyer,

don't he?

Nasty little sponger, that's what he is.

Stayed here all night, didn't he?

What kind of name's that going

to give the neighborhood?

Didn't you understand what

I said, Mrs. Mouncey?

Preying on your innocence, Adelaide,

that's what he's doing.

I hope you haven't told him nothing

you didn't ought to.

I told him everything.

You's lucky you got me

to look after you.

I bet you! Taking advantage of a poor

sweet young widow...

...that doesn't have her eyes open

to men and their wicked ways.

You heard what Mrs. Lambert said.

She'll pay you no more money.

And you don't dare go to the police.

She knows that.

We're letting you off lightly,

now get out.

You've been took in by

a scoundrel, dearie.

Very well.

Mrs. Lambert will prosecute

you for blackmail.

Prosecute me?

Well, I've been like a sl*ve to her

running her errands,

treating her like a blooming duchess...

on account of there being a warm

spot in me heart...

...for them that is alone in this

wicked world.

Are you going to leave?

No, I'll not leave!

Never, never!

I'll k*ll you first, I will!

Don't!

I must. It's the only thing

she understands.

Now get out of here.

If you bother Mrs. Lambert again,

I'll break every bone in your body,

if you have any.

Like me own daughter.

I'm sorry it had to be so rough.

I'll always be grateful to you,

it's as if you'd saved my life.

As a matter of fact, you have.

Yes. You can go home now,

can't you?

It's all I've dreamed about

for three years.

Going home.

Living in the country,

waking up in a pretty room.

Doing the flowers.

Even going calling with Mama

came to seem pleasant.

If I could find more remunerative

employment,

I might be able to afford this flat

after you've gone.

I've become attached to the

Mews overnight.

I wonder if... if it's possible for me

to pick up where I was again.

If it's ever possible for anybody.

You wouldn't think of staying

on here, would you?

Yesterday I'd have said that there

was nothing more in the world...

I wanted than to leave the Mews,

and now...

Suddenly I don't think I want

to go at all.

Perhaps I'm no longer fit

for ordinary pleasant living.

There's nothing ordinary about you.

The curse of it is I'm already married.

Oh, she's in America now, I haven't

seen her for years.

It only lasted ten months.

If I did keep the flat, you could still

sleep downstairs in the coach house.

As a lodger I think I should tell you.

Addressing envelopes is not

very profitable.

If I make ten shillings a week,

I do very well.

Well, then you can give me five and I

won't be out of pocket for your food.

Or, as I said, I might get

something better.

Especially if I stop drinking.

Oh, I shan't expect that.

But, if you do drink badly,

of course I shall turn you out.

But I don't expect you

to stop drinking.

You know, if you tried to stop me,

I should undoubtedly get worse.

But because of your attitude

I shall probably stop.

There's one thing.

I don't care what other people think.

But I do care a great deal about

my own self-respect.

In such a...

such an arrangement as we are

proposing there is a danger.

We must be very careful not to become

too fond of each other.

I'm deuced if I can guarantee

not becoming fond of you.

but I will promise to keep

from showing it.

That's what I mean.

Priceless, superlative.

Unique.

Ah, Tartuffe, the hypocrite.

One sees the gaelic touch, wit

and workmanship.

Oh, Adelaide, this is Mr. Bly.

This is Mrs. Lambert.

Madame.

Mr. Bly is unquestionably the most skillful

puppet master in the three kingdoms.

We're very honored to have you call.

You are honored, no, no.

The privilege of inspecting these masterly

creations has quite made my day.

The puppets, you mean?

I suppose they are very nice.

My husband thought a great

deal of them.

That I know already.

Mr. Lambert has the enthusiasm which is

the sine qua non of successful manipulation.

We're going to start stringing

them at once.

How long do you think it

will take, Mr. Bly?

Oh, weeks, possibly months.

And before you're competent to operate them

by yourself, I daresay several years.

For heaven's sake, Gilbert, don't you

start wasting your time on those things.

You don't need to worry, my dear. We shall

only work on them in the evenings.

In the morning I shall be back

on my desk addressing circulars.

Well, in that case...

Gilbert, could you spare me

a few moments?

Certainly. Would you excuse us?

I was about to take my leave.

Madame.

- Mr. Lambert.

- Thank you again for coming, Mr. Bly.

We'll start the work at

your convenience.

Perhaps I shouldn't have surprised

you about the puppets.

- Nothing surprises me anymore.

- Not even my being called Mr. Lambert?

It's very logical from their

point of view.

Much easier talking about the

Lamberts in number 2...

...than about Mrs. Lambert

and Mr. Lauderdale.

Much more proper too.

And you're still just as deeply

concerned with what's proper...

...as Miss Culver of Albion Place

ever was.

Yes, I know.

That's the spirit, Mr. Lambert,

now you're getting it.

- One must relax the fingers.

- I think you're quite right, Mr. Bly.

I've been too tense.

Oh, Adelaide, look.

Isn't it wonderful?

Good heavens. You sound as if

you'd been knighted.

This is infinitely more important

than knighthood.

Don't trip, old fellow.

A little more life.

M. Pierre, may I present Mrs. Lambert.

How do you do, Pierre?

"Permit me to say I have never been

more charmed at the appearence of a lady."

- "Bon soir, ch?rie."

- Oh, bon soir yourself.

Mr. Bly, would you like

some hot chocolate?

Thank you very much,

Mrs. Lambert.

"This is hardly what you would call

a cordial reception...

...after ten years in a dusty basket."

"Exactly who is this lady?"

She's just an old grouch

that lives upstairs...

...and I don't think she likes people

like you and me.

"I see what you mean, but can't you

appreciate my fine clothing?"

"My noble features, my very

obvious workmanship?"

Look at my shoe. Perfect!

And note my flexibility. I'm as agile

as any gentleman in the court.

And you're also to be admired

for your modesty.

You're doing very well, darling.

But aren't you afraid of tiring

the little gentleman?

Well, one does come to look

upon them as little people.

Well, I think the time has come

for serious work, Mr. Lambert.

You have the basic understanding...

...and as soon as you can acquire

your polish, sooner we can start business.

You're right, I'll resign my job

and give my full time to them now.

I think you're wise. I'll call in my carpenter

friend and see what can be done.

It will be small but...

I wish I could share your confidence.

Good night, Mr. Bly.

I'm sure we could all do with

some sleep.

I think we'll call it an evening.

I know we'll make a success of you,

you little devils.

Britannia Mews had never known

anyone like Gilbert before.

We caught his enthusiasm and

began to work.

All of us.

I am Tartuffe, the hypocrite.

I am Elmire, the wife of Orgon.

I am Orgon, the jealous husband.

People began to come.

First, people from the neighborhood,

then sightseers and curiosity

seekers from all over London.

Overnight we became famous.

And the Mews began to wash its face

and scrub behind its ears.

One, please.

No charge for blood relatives

of the management.

- Addie!

- Shh!

But... Oh, Addie!

- How are you, Treff?

- It's... it's wonderful!

Now, ancient witch, your hour

has come at last.

And all your evildoings in the past...

No, I'm hanged if I'm going

to waste poetry on her.

Be off! Skidaddle! Get out!

The waiting and the wandering are past.

Rose of my heart, I find you

here at last.

Gilbert, dear, this is my brother Treff.

Well, this is a surprise.

Gilbert?

I thought... It seemed to me I

remembered his name was Henry.

It, um...

It was, it's, um...

It's rather complicated to explain.

Not that I mind, you understand.

It's just that when one's grown used

to thinking of a relation by one name...

I didn't know you ever thought of us

at all at Platt's End.

Oh, come now, Addie. After all you're

the only sister I've got.

And although this is the first time

I've actually met Mr. Lambert...

You may call him Gilbert.

It's, um... it's his middle name.

Henry Gilbert Lambert.

We both decided that we

liked it better.

Perhaps you don't consider

names important,

but I can assure you I feel quite a

different person from Henry Lambert.

Really? I had no idea this was

your theater, you know, Addie.

Mama had some notion that you'd

left the Mews years ago.

Did you enjoy the performance, Treff?

Enjoy it? I was thrilled.

No less. Thrilled to the very marrow.

It's a remarkable achievement

combining a...

...a classical art form with a

commercial success.

Well, at least the whole act does give one

the impression of a commercial success.

We've done rather well so far.

There's no telling how long

the vogue will last, of course.

Forever. If you employ someone who knows

how to stimulate the public interest.

You know. Do things to keep

the enterprise in the limelight.

Like Barnam, the American circus

chap, only more refined.

And just what are your qualifications

for such a job, Treff?

Me?

Well, as a matter of fact,

now that you mention it,

there are quite a few other fellows from

my college who work on various periodocals.

That's what you need.

Someone who knows their way around,

to act sort of agent between

you and the press.

- What ever would Mama and Papa say?

- Oh, I don't give a hang.

Besides, they needn't know it's

you I'm working for.

Well, not at first anyway.

I must get away from Platt's End, Addie.

They just don't let you lead

a life of one's own.

What do you think, dear?

Is the Puppet Theater in need

of some refined exploitation?

The best way to decide that

is to give it a trial.

It'll cost you very little to start.

Almost nothing in fact if you, um...

...had somewhere you could put me up.

I don't require anything fancy,

of course.

I could sleep down here, Addie,

if I had an extra bed.

I'm afraid that's one thing

we can't provide.

You could find some lodgings

close by and...

...whatever they cost, we'll pay as part

of your expenses.

Oh, in that case, it's very generous

of you. I hope I'll live up to it.

Well, I promised I'd meet my friend

at the Caf? Royale.

Why don't you come by and meet

us tomorrow, Treff,

and we'll make plans for

your new career.

I'll do that.

By the way, you're no relation to

the Geoffrey Lamberts, are you?

Geoffrey? Possibly a distant cousin.

I'm afraid I haven't studied the

Lambert family as much as I should.

- Good night.

- Good night. Good night, Addie.

Good night, Treff.

Poor Treff, he really had his

heart set on your bed.

And I'd like nothing better than to have

been able to give it up to him.

We're as much married as it's right

for us to be.

Sometimes your idea of what's right

is a little more rigid than mine.

You're an angel, my dear. It's very

ungrateful of me to wish you weren't.

Good night, my dearest love.

Good night.

And so, Treff went to work for us.

With the help of his school friends,

his youthful enthusiasm produced

amazing results.

This week's edition won't be on sale until

tomorrow, but they gave a copy in advance.

Do you really think our faces are going

to bring in any business?

By all means!

The personalized type is invaluable

for mass appeal.

For prestige we've got to attract

the more intelectual critics like, er...

Bernard Shaw of the Saturday Review.

Treff will be dreaming of a

world tour next.

Oh, why not?

As a matter of fact...

Enough. It's much too late for such

youthful enthusiasm.

- Good night, Treff.

- Good night, Gil.

- Good night, my dear.

- Good night, dear.

Good night, Treff.

Addie.

May I come up for a moment?

Well, I am rather tired,

but if it's important.

I think it's rather important.

Very well.

What is it, Treff?

Something about Gilbert and me?

You know deuced well it is.

I suppose I should have explained it

to you all from the start.

There isn't any explanation that

can make it right.

I spoke to the vicar about you

when I was home last weekend.

And he said you were making

a mockery of marriage.

You spoke to the vicar about us?

Not by name.

I just said I knew a married couple...

...where one lived upstairs and

the other down.

He said if it happened in his parish,

he'd have one private talk with them...

...and then blast the whole subject

wide open in a sermon.

You mean that's what you've

been leading up to?

That Gilbert and I occupy

separate rooms?

Don't you love him, sis?

I love him with all my heart.

Then it's his idea!

Well, I have a right as your brother

to tell him what I think about it.

Wait, Treff.

Gilbert doesn't have a room downstairs

because he wants it that way.

Then why?

- Well...

- You're contradicting yourself, you know?

I suppose I am.

Gilbert!

Whoever's at fault in this thing, we've got

to put an end to it straight away.

Don't you ever want to make it up

with Mama and Papa?

Of course I do.

Well, what do you think

their attitude would be...

...if they knew the truth about

how you're living?

I don't imagine they'd like it.

Of course they wouldn't.

Gilbert, I've taken it upon myself...

I think it's my duty...

...to put an end to this nonsense

between you and Adelaide.

Treff has a very keen sense

of morality.

Well,

whatever you may have

discovered about us,

you ought to know your sister

well enough to know that...

...nothing has happened to cause you

the slightest concern.

It's not that, dear,

not that at all.

It's just that Treff feels...

he feels...

I'm sure you can settle this much more

easily between yourselves.

I'm not even concerned with

who's to blame.

But all I ask is that an intolerable

situation not be allowed to continue.

Good night.

- So!

- Oh, it's you.

You sound rather like a comic

opera villain, you know.

Do you care to explain where

you're going and why?

I... I suppose I'll have to.

Treff, my boy,

you're still quite a young man.

and there are certain aspects of conjugal

life of which you're still unaware.

- Quite properly, of course.

- Are you in love with my sister?

Madly and...

Madly and irrevocably.

The fault nevertheless is still all mine.

Treff, I'll tell you my secret.

I snore.

- Well, so does my father, but...

- Not only that.

But I have nightmares, none of your

ordinary, passive nightmares, mind you,

but I scream and kick and thrash out

with my clenched fists.

Once in school I hit another boy so hard

one night I knocked out two of his teeth.

How ghastly.

Fortunately my father was a dentist.

But since he passed away

ten years ago,

I've had to take the most

rigid precautions.

I've made the most frightful

a*s of myself.

I... I hope you'll forgive me.

Of course.

I should have confided in you

before but...

now that everything's been explained,

hadn't you better...

...be making your way back

to your lodgings?

Yes.

Unless of course, owing to the lateness

of the hour, you'd care to share my bed.

Oh, no, thank you, I have only

a short walk back.

Probably the safer course.

Well, again, good night.

Good night.

Thank you, my dear.

Good afternoon, Gilbert.

Oh, blazes.

I'm sorry, my dear, but this is

Mrs. Lauderdale.

Mrs. Lambert.

My dear, I want you to know

right away...

...that I just don't blame you

for a thing.

You've been victimized just like every

other woman since Mother Eve.

Would you like a cup of tea,

Mrs. Lauderdale?

No, thank you, Mrs. Lambert.

I think I'll just catch my breath

from those stairs of yours if I may.

Have you just returned from

America, Millie?

Yes, a month last Tuesday.

I didn't know where to find you not having

any idea you'd changed your name.

Then I saw your picture in the

Illustrated News.

Did you come all the way

to England to find Gilbert?

He deserted me, Mrs. Lambert.

I want you to know what sort of a life that

means for a respectable God-fearing woman.

Especially one whose father

died in bankruptcy.

You seem to have born up rather well,

Millie, judging from your appearence.

Thank you, darling.

I'll say this for him, he's never without

a pretty speech to cheer you up.

Now that the compliments are over

we can face our problem.

What do you have in mind, Millie?

I assume you have something in mind.

Gilbert, there's no reason to...

Cynics to the core, all of them,

my dear.

There isn't any problem to face,

is there?

Except for this poor woman

you've deceived and betrayed.

He hasn't deceived me at all,

Mrs. Lauderdale.

He's hidden nothing from me.

Oh, I must say that changes

the complexion of things.

If you took up knowingly with a married

man, you can hardly expect...

Never mind that, Millie.

There's nothing to reproach

Mrs. Lambert with.

She's above anybody's reproach.

If there's been any fault,

it's only mine.

No, Gilbert, you don't have anything

to blame yourself for.

And so we're through with

the compliments.

Let's just agree that I've been wronged

by a couple of saints.

The fact remains that I have been wronged,

isn't that so, Mrs. Lambert?

No, it isn't. Up until this moment

there has been no wrong.

And there's not going to be any.

- What do you mean?

- You've found your husband again.

It may be hard for both of you

to make a new start.

But sometimes people have to do

things that are hard for them.

Adelaide, don't talk like that.

We can't just give up so quickly.

She's your wife.

You must go back to her.

I won't do any...

Gilbert, please.

It isn't easy for me,

it isn't easy for me at all.

Mrs. Lambert!

You'd better go in to her.

She's very upset.

No, it's better to leave her alone.

What could I do to help her now?

Well, she may feel differently when

she's calmed down.

This has been a frightful shock to her.

No, when Adelaide makes up

her mind about something...

she doesn't change.

I'll come back tomorrow and arrange

with her about my things.

The theater is hers,

lock, stock, and barrel, of course.

The best thing we can do is leave

as quickly as possible.

But, no, Gilbert... it's too cruel.

Nothing we could say would

make it less cruel.

We should think of ourselves instead.

We've been reunited, that's

something accomplished for the good.

- Where are we going?

- Haven't you a hotel or something?

- Yes, of course...

- Then we'll go there and talk.

We're right back where we were

eight years ago,

only this time I have neither

a job nor a penny.

Once again the Mews had become

a place of sorrow for me.

The thought of life without Gilbert

was more than I could endure.

Addie!

Addie, I've done it. I've won the

battle at Platt's End.

What are you talking about, Treff?

I've been working on Mama

and Papa gradually,

you know, dropping a word

here and there,

and last night they surrendered.

They want you and Gilbert

to come for a visit.

How very sweet of them.

At first they thought you might come

for the weekend,

till I explained that Saturday was the most

important night in the theater.

But on Sunday there's no

perfromance, so...

Is there anything the matter

with that?

Please go away, Treff, I can't

talk to you now, I...

I can't.

- Gilbert, something's terrible the matter.

- No, there isn't, my boy.

- With Addie, I mean.

- Sorry I can't talk about it now.

Some other time.

She divorced me two years ago and married a

corset salesman at a place called Milwaukee.

We would never have known about it

if you hadn't seen through her game...

...and insisted on giving me

back to her.

- But I didn't see through anything.

- You didn't?

No, of course not.

I meant what I said.

What's right must come before

anything else.

Well, what's right now is you and me.

- But, Gilbert, you're divorced, I can't...

- That happened to a man named Lauderdale.

Gilbert Lambert on the other hand

is still a bachelor...

...and very anxious not to remain one.

Treff, tell Mama and Papa that we'll be

delighted to come on Sunday.

Oh.

Oh!

We were married that afternoon

at the registrar's office...

...in Doctors' Commons and left

immediately for Platt's End.

And I might add not without certain

apprehensions on my part.

Oh, Mama!

Addie, dear.

- Mother, this is Gil.

- Welcome to Platt's End, Gilbert.

You see, Treff has trained us to call our

son-in-law by the name he prefers.

- So nice to see you.

- You've changed even less than Addie.

I always think it's so important for

a man to keep his figure.

You're very kind.

Oh, Papa, this is my husband.

No need to tell me that. Wasn't it I

who hired him in the first place?

Addie, what do you think?

Alice and Fred are coming to supper.

Alice? Oh, Mama...

- Why, that's wonderful.

- Well, come along in.

That's right, Gilbert, come along in.

After you.

I must have been dreadfully in the way

during those drawing lessons.

I'm surprised Mr. Lambert didn't

strangle me.

Well, I was working up to it but fortunately

you had your autumn cold.

And you sent the twins to call off

the drawing lesson.

- Remember, Alice?

- Yes, of course I do.

I've always had a remarkably

good memory, you know?

Shall we go into the drawing room?

Hm, very good idea.

I'm told, Mrs. Baker, that you

have three children,

which of course I don't believe.

Addie.

Your father and I, we have

something to say to you.

- Yes, Mama?

- It isn't always easy to be good parents.

Even those with the best intentions

make mistakes.

- Would you rather say this, William?

- No, no, no, certainly not, certainly not.

We both realize now that we were

wrong about... about Mr. Lambert.

- Oh, Mama.

- We didn't really give him a chance.

We just assumed that he was

a fortune hunter.

You see, he seemed to fit into the pattern

and your mother jumped to the conclusion...

I jumped? You were the head

of the house.

It was up to you to make

the final decision.

Bertha, do you mean to say that you've got

the audacity to stand there and say that?

It doesn't matter who said

what, does it?

If it means that you approve

of him now.

Yes, Addie, indeed we do.

Well, then that's all that matters.

You feel quite confident then that

South African shares are looking up?

Oh, absolutely. It said so

in the Times last week.

Oh, my gloves. I think I left them

in the sitting room.

I'll get them for you, dear.

Talking of shares, my boy, I'd like

to have a word with you.

Would you care to come round

to the office?

Remember the night I told you

I was going to marry Freddie?

Yes, I do.

We promised we'd both stand by whoever

the other one chose.

You do like Gilbert, don't you, Alice?

Much better than Mr. Lambert.

Alice!

Oh, Alice!

- Good night, Mr. Baker.

- Got them, my dear?

- Yes, dear.

- Good.

Do come in and see the children

tomorrow, Addie.

- I will. Good night, Alice.

- Good night.

- Good night, Alice.

- Good night.

- Come along, Freddie.

- I'll see you out.

I think we'll say good night too.

It's the same room, Addie. The one I've

always wanted you to have.

Yes, I know. The pretty one.

Goodbye.

- Good night, Mama.

- Good night.

- Sleep well, Addie.

- Good night.

Good night, Gilbert.

- Good night, Treff.

- Good night, Gilbert, good night, Addie.

- Looks like a bride our Addie.

- After six years.

Mama!

Now I'll show you your room, Gilbert.

I didn't know before.

- Treff has just explained to me.

- Mama, we're perfectly all right here.

Nonsense, we've plenty of room.

And there's no reason why you shouldn't

have the same arrangement here...

...as you're accustomed to.

It's just along the passage. I think

you'll find it quite comfortable.

- Good night.

- Good night.

Sleep well.

My Mews is now a fashionable address.

Famous writers and artists have

their studios there.

And gone is the squalor of yesteryear.

But to me it will always be the place which

caught the imagination of a little girl.

A place of mystery, fascination,

and heartbreak.

And at the end, a place of

enchantment, and happiness.