♪ ♪ CHARLES: "I should like Miss Margaret Schlegel to have Howards End."

HENRY: Your mother cannot have been herself when it was written.

♪ ♪ HELEN: He's a beast.

He has no human feelings.

MARGARET: I thought him rather splendid.

HELEN: Now, how should such a man be helped?

HENRY: Porphyrion is a bad, bad concern.

MARGARET: A friend of ours has said that it is bound to smash by Easter.

Where are you going?

What do you want to have me in there for?

MARGARET: It's only a letter reminding us we have until May to clear out.

HENRY: I have decided to give up the house in Ducie Street.

♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ I think our race is degenerating.

(chuckles) If we cannot settle even this little thing, what will it be like when we have to settle a big one?

It's the little things one bungles at.

The big, real ones are nothing when they come.

I was thinking of Father having to leave Germany at 40, adopt a new country and new ideals.

And we, at our age, can't even change houses.

I wish you'd come with me.

No, I'd rather leave it to you.

But you won't do anything rash, will you, Margaret?

There's nothing rash to do.

This is awfully kind, but I'm afraid it's not going to do.

A house has not been built that suits the Schlegel family.

What, have you come determined not to deal?

Not exactly.

Not exactly.

Well, in that case, let's be starting.

Is this a new motor car, Mr. Wilcox?

Yes, yes.

Presumably, it's very beautiful.

How do you like it, Crane?

Oh, very much, ma'am.

Is it a steam car?

No, no, I don't hold with steam engines.

No, of course not, there's no thingummy.

But are they faster?

I read... Not for long, no.

They are just now...

But, Crane, thank you.

The potentialities of the internal combustion engine... No future in steam cars.

Crane.

Oh, oh, beg your pardon, sir.

May I?

No, thank you, I can manage.

Nonsense, let me help you.

Um... (horse clomping by) MR. WILCOX: Now, how on earth did you know my chauffeur was called Crane?

Oh, I know Crane.

I've been driving with Mrs. Wilcox.

I know you have a housekeeper called Maisie.

I know all sorts of things.

How does Evie do?

Oh, Evie?

Oh, you won't see her.

She's, uh, she's gone out with Cahill.

I'll tell you, it's no fun being left so much alone.

I have my work all day, but I come home in the evening, and I can't stand the house, I tell you.

In my absurd way, I'm lonely too.

(car hood opens) It's heartbreaking, having to leave one's old home.

I scarcely remember anything before Wickham Place.

Helen and Tibby were born there and... You too feel lonely?

Horribly.

(engine starts) (hood closes) Uh, I think you were, you were just saying, sorry.

Oh, just some rubbish about furniture.

Ha!

Well, you're, you're not as unpractical as you pretend, I shall never believe that.

Oh, but I am quite as unpractical.

In all events, you responded to my letter very promptly.

Oh, well, even I know a good thing when I see it.

♪ ♪ I want to go over the whole house.

And then as soon as I get back to Wickham Place, I'll talk it over with Helen and Tibby, and then write to you yes or no.

Right.

The entrance hall.

(exhales) Here we fellows smoke.

Oh, jolly.

(chuckles) You do like it?

It's all rubbish, not making oneself comfortable, isn't it?

Yes.

Are these Cruikshanks?

Gillrays.

Shall we go upstairs?

(exhales) Does all this furniture come from Howards End?

No, all the Howards End furniture has gone to the house in Oniton.

Does...

I'm so sorry.

However, I'm concerned with the house, not the furniture.

How big is this drawing room?

Um, 30 by 22.

Oh, no, wait a minute, 22 and a half.

Shall we... Miss Schlegel...

Yes?

Miss Schlegel...

I've had you here on false pretenses.

I want to speak to you about a much more serious matter than a house.

I know, I mean... You know?

No, I mean, I...

I mean... Miss Schlegel?

Yes?

Could you be induced to share my, uh... Is it probable...?

Mr. Wilcox, I see.

I see.

I will write to you afterward, if I may.

Miss Schlegel... Margaret-- uh, Miss Schlegel, no, you don't understand.

Oh, yes, indeed.

Yes.

I am asking you to be my wife.

I know.

I did think...

I know.

You aren't offended?

How could I be offended?

I... Mr. Wilcox?

I am not of your set.

No, you are not.

And I am much older than you.

Yes, you are.

But I am... Mr. Wilcox, you quite take my breath away.

There's no need to advance your cause.

I thought perhaps there might be.

No, indeed.

Well.

Uh, well... Shall we tour the rest of the house?

Perhaps not today.

No, of course, no.

You will have a letter from me.

We go down to Swanage to my aunt's tomorrow.

Thank you.

Goodbye.

And it's you I thank.

If it is to be no, you may say so at once.

But I don't... And if it is, you can depend on my letting you the house under the same conditions.

(stammering): I...

I didn't mean to imply that I had deceived you on that.

Of course not.

And you should deal only with the house agent directly.

I would never dream of intruding myself in the place of a landlord under... Well, under circumstances which might, you might find awkward should-should circumstances be...

But you see what I mean.

Certainly I do, but I'm not thinking of that.

(quietly): Right.

I may order the motor car round.

That would be most kind.

Just one question.

I... (fire crackling) (sighs) I do wonder.

I do wonder whether she's taken the house.

I hope she hasn't been hasty.

So do I.

So do I.

(door opens, closes) Have you got the house?

Thank you, Annie.

Have you got the house?

No.

(groans) What a nuisance.

So we're as we were.

Not-not exactly.

Some mystery-- we're to be enlightened presently?

Aunt Juley, will you ask Annie to make the tea?

We have to talk houses, and I'll be down afterward.

Mr. Wilcox has made me an offer of marriage.

(scoffs) It's just like a widower.

They've cheek enough for anything and invariably select one of their first wife's friends, that type... You've never conceivably... You never... (gasps) (impatiently): Oh, really.

Don't, don't, don't, Meg, don't do such a thing.

I tell you not to.

I-I know... don't.

What do you know?

Don't!

We would still see each other very often.

(groans) It's not a thing like that.

What has happened to you?

Meg... Look here, sit down.

I'll sit down if you sit down.

It is a wonderful feeling knowing a real man cares for you.

And remember, I have known and liked him for a long while now.

But loved him?

No.

But you will?

Yes.

Of that I'm pretty sure.

And have settled to marry him?

I had.

What is it against him, Helen?

You must try and say.

It's ever since Paul... What has Mr. Wilcox to do with Paul?

But he was there.

They were all there that morning when I came down to breakfast and saw that Paul was so frightened.

All his paraphernalia had fallen, so that I knew it was impossible, because personal relations are the important thing, not this outer life of telegrams and anger.

I know Mr. Wilcox's faults.

He's afraid of emotion.

He cares too much about success, too little about the past.

I'd even say, spiritually, he's not as honest as I am.

Doesn't that satisfy you?

No, it doesn't.

It makes me feel worse and worse.

You must be mad.

I don't intend him, or any man, or any woman, to be all my life.

There are heaps of things in me that he doesn't-- and never shall-- understand.

And so with him.

There are heaps of things in him, more especially things he does, which will always be hidden from me.

He has all those public qualities that you so despise and enable all of this.

More and more do I refuse to draw my income and sneer at those who guarantee it.

I don't intend to correct him or to reform him.

Only connect.

That is the whole of my sermon.

I've not undertaken to fashion a husband to suit myself using Henry's soul as raw materials.

It would be contemptible and unfair.

(exhales) One would lose something.

♪ ♪ He's here.

Hello.

Hello.

AUNT JULEY: Hello, Mr. Wilcox!

Well, well, well, all of you!

Congratulations!

How very nice.

Mrs. Munt, how do you do, how do you do.

Helen.

Mr. Schlegel.

MARGARET: Oh, come along, Henry.

MR. WILCOX: Lunch.

♪ ♪ (waves crashing, seagulls squawking) I was thinking, if you don't mind, that we ought to spend this afternoon in a business talk.

I think so too.

How did you get on with Tibby during cigarettes after lunch?

Oh, very well.

Oh, I am glad.

What did you talk about?

Me, presumably?

No, Greece.

(chuckles) Oh, good.

Tibby's terribly keen on the Greeks.

Yes, I have shares in a currant farm in Kalamata.

(chuckles) What a delightful thing to have shares in.

Can't we go there for our honeymoon?

What to do?

To eat the currants.

Isn't there marvelous scenery?

Moderately.

It's not the sort of place one could possibly take a lady.

Why not?

There's no hotels.

Some ladies do without hotels.

(scoffs) Are you aware that Helen and I walked alone over the Apennines with the luggage on our backs?

No.

I was not aware.

(chuckles) And if I can manage it, I will make sure that you never do such a thing again.

You haven't found time for a talk with Helen yet, I suppose?

No.

Well, do before you leave.

I'm so anxious the two of you should be friends.

Your sister and I have always hit it off.

Yes.

(seagulls squawking) TIBBY: I wonder what they're talking about.

HELEN: Shares.

He is winning Margaret body and soul, like Othello.

Only instead of disastrous chances and "hair-breadth 'scapes i' th' imminent deadly breach," Mr. Wilcox is telling her about his adventures in mustard production.

AUNT JULYE: Does Mr. Wilcox make mustard?

How extraordinary.

Mr. Wilcox is in rubber, African rubber.

Yes, but he's got shares in everything.

I don't think I should feel comfortable owning shares in rubber.

One feels so badly for the natives.

But you have got shares in rubber, Aunt Juley.

We all have.

Do we?

Well, I hadn't the smallest notion.

You can write to your broker if you want to sell them.

I-I don't know.

I suppose we shall have to have Caruso.

(groans) Tibby, can't we have something a bit more jolly?

("Luna d'estate" by Enrico Caruso playing) ♪ Luna d'estate ho un sogno nel mio cuore ♪ ♪ E vo' cantando tutta notte al mare... ♪ You know that Evie is going to marry Percy Cahill, Dolly's uncle.

He must have a suitable provision.

Of course.

Paul is struggling away in Africa.

Yes.

Charles and Dolly have an increasing family and increasing expenses.

Poor fellow.

Charles will some day inherit Howards End, but I am anxious, in my own happiness, not to be unjust to my other children.

Oh, you mean money.

How stupid I am.

Yes, of course not.

Yes, since you put it so frankly.

I'm determined to be just to them, just to you.

Be generous to them, bother just.

I've already written to Charles to that effect.

How much have you got?

What?

My...?

What, my income?

Yes, how much a year?

I've got 600.

I must say, you're a downright young woman.

What a question to spring on a fellow.

Well, don't you know your own income?

Or don't you want to tell it me?

Well...

It's all right.

Don't tell me, I don't want to know.

But won't Charles come into the business some day?

In the usual way he would, but I have raised Charles and the others to be self-sufficient.

If Charles can show an aptitude for business sufficient to safeguard the company and my other interests, and everything that involves, well, then, yes, he should be the proper person to succeed me.

If not, well...

The fact is, my dear, I haven't any intention of bothering you with the details.

I just wanted to let you know...

Yes, we've settled all that.

Go ahead, give away as much as you can, bearing in mind I have a clear 600.

(waves rolling) Mmm.

(seagulls squawking) There's one other point and then I must go back to the hotel and write some letters.

Mm-hmm.

What's to be done now about the house in Ducie Street?

I don't expect we'll want to live there.

It'll be a little crowded with your brother and your sister too and your aunt visiting.

Oh, yes.

I don't know where Helen and Tibby want to live in the end.

It depends.

When do you want to marry me?

MAN: Getting a bit hot, eh?

I say!

It doesn't matter, Henry.

(men laughing) (men cheering, laughing in background) Evie will probably be married in April.

I can scarcely think about anything before then.

What about April for us too?

♪ ♪ (chattering) I could've managed perfectly well alone, Henry.

You'll miss the post.

Well, that's a fine start if your aunt saw you walking alone.

I always go about alone, considering I galloped over the Apennines.

Oh, dear, I'm sorry.

Sorry, sorry.

It's only common sense.

Margaret?

♪ ♪ Goodbye.

Goodbye, my dear.

♪ ♪ Miss Schlegel has got us fairly on toast, thanks to you.

I?

I could scratch that woman's eyes out, and to say it's my fault is most unfair.

♪ Rum-ti-foo ♪ Rackity-tackity-tum-team!

Father would never have dreamt marrying as long as Evie was there to make him comfortable.

And you must needs stop matchmaking and ask my sister down to meet your Uncle Percy and send them out in the motor car day after day.

I am not responsible for what Uncle Percy does, nor for anybody else, or anything, so there.

Oh, well!

We're in a bad hole.

We must make the most of it.

I shall answer the pater's letter civilly, but I do not intend to forget these Schlegels in a hurry.

(baby talk) Dolly, are you listening?

Yes, I'm listening.

As long as they're on their best behavior, we'll behave too, but if I find them giving themselves airs or monopolizing my father, or ill-treating him, or worrying him with their artistic beastliness, I intend to put my foot down.

Yes, and firmly.

Taking my mother's place.

She always meant to get her hands on Howards End.

Now she's got it.

LEONARD: 50.

MAN: I'll give you ten.

Ten?

I've got the money.

They're worth twice that much.

I'll give you 12.

Final offer.

Yes, fine.

All right.

Good man.

♪ ♪ JACKY: Go on, Len.

Do go on, you must write.

You must, it's their doing, isn't it?

They told you to leave the Porphyrion.

I don't know, but a man doesn't... Well, isn't it?

All right!

They only meant to be kind.

Don't you snip at me, my boy.

I'm not... snipping.

I...

I'll write.

I promise, just... go to bed.

All right, darling.

I'm sorry.

It's all right.

(inhales) (voiceover): Dear Miss Schlegel, I wanted to thank you for your consideration in forewarning me of the expected collapse of the Porphyrion Fire Insurance Company.

Taking your advice, I have resigned from my position.

I have now taken a role as a clerk at Dempster's Bank.

Whilst my salary is much lower than before, and I find myself in more reduced circumstances, I can be thankful that my position is now secure.

Yours gratefully, Leonard Bast.

(seagulls squawking) How dreadful!

Hello!

Well, here we all are.

Morning, Helen.

Morning, Mr. Wilcox.

Henry, she's had a letter from that queer cross boy.

Do you remember?

Very handsome, but sad eyes.

The back of his head was young.

You told him to clear out of the Porphyrion.

I told him?

Told who?

Of whom are you talking?

I had a letter too, not a nice one.

I want to talk it over with you.

Our friend, Mr. Bast.

Mr. Bast, our friend.

You warned him about the Porphyrion-- don't you remember?

I do not.

Yes, he cleared out, thanks to your hint.

It's not a bad business, the Porphyrion.

You say he's cleared out?

On what grounds?

Not a bad business?

On the grounds of your advice to us.

Porphyrion?

Well, I shouldn't have said so.

No, my letter's about Howards End, my tenant...

Surely on Chelsea Embankment... Mr. Price, he's been ordered abroad, and he wants to sublet it.

Morning, Mrs. Munt.

But you did say... Good morning, good morning.

Fine view.

Morning, Schlegel.

Isn't it?

Good morning.

He has no right to do it.

There's no clause in the contract.

MARGARET: Who, Henry?

MR. WILCOX: My tenant at Howards End.

I'm thinking of canceling the agreement.

MARGARET: Oh, do you... excuse me, I'm sorry, about the Porphyrion, I don't feel easy.

May I bother you, Henry.

Yes, yes.

You said it was a bad concern, so we advised this clerk to clear out.

He writes this morning that he's taken our advice, and now you say it's not a bad concern.

He's gone into a bank.

It's a much lower salary, but he hopes to manage.

A branch of Dempster's Bank, is that all right?

Oh, my goodness me, yes.

More right than the Porphyrion?

Yes, yes, yes, yes, safe as houses.

Safer.

Oh, many thanks.

I'm sorry.

If you sublet Howards End... Well, you have more control.

We ought to go and see the place sometime.

It's pretty in its way.

Why don't we motor down next Wednesday and have lunch with Charles?

He and Dolly are only 15 minutes' drive from Howards End now.

Come up to town.

I'll show you the office, and we can drive down together.

It'll be fun, hmm?

Oh, I should love to, but Aunt Juley expects us to stop at least another week.

Well, you can give that up now.

No, honestly, she counts on this visit year after year.

She turns the house upside-down for us.

That's all right, I'll speak to her.

Henry, I won't go.

Don't bully me.

You do want to see the house, though?

Very much.

That'll be all right, then.

Oh, Mr. Wilcox, about the Porphyrion...

It's all right, Dempster's Bank is better.

But I-I think you told us the Porphyrion would smash before Easter.

Did I?

Uh... Well, it was still outside the tariff ring.

Lately, it's come in.

Safe as houses now.

In other words, Mr. Bast need never have left it and started life elsewhere at a greatly reduced salary?

No, the fellow needn't.

He only says "reduced."

But the man's so poor, every reduction must be great.

I-I consider it a deplorable misfortune.

You mean I'm responsible?

You're ridiculous, Helen.

The point is...

The point is a man who had little money has less, owing to us.

Who is this fellow?

We have told you about the fellow twice.

You've even met the fellow.

He's very poor and his wife... Helen, please.

..and he is capable of better things-- no, Meg.

We thought we would help him from the height of our superior knowledge, and here's the result.

A word of advice.

Well, I require no more advice.

A word of advice.

Don't take up that sentimental attitude over the poor.

See that she doesn't, Margaret?

HELEN: You call it sentiment.

I-I call it common humanity.

Indeed?

Well, you talk about this young man as if he were an-an exhibition in the circus.

I don't.

As if there were not three million more like him in London alone, besides their wives and children.

(stammering): And must we not do our best to... Are we not to help them if we can when the chance comes, when our paths cross?

Of course we must.

But you haven't helped him.

No, I haven't.

Oh... it's impossible!

Oh, don't let's row.

My dear Helen, neither you, nor I, nor my informant, nor the directors of the Porphyrion are to blame for this clerk's loss in salary.

No one is to blame.

I am.

You're too severe.

You're guilty of nothing more than meddling in the life of a young man about whom you know practically nothing.

But we do know him, Henry.

This young man of yours is guilty of... No!

...is guilty of an error in judgment, merely.

Of quitting his situation for a worse one without determining the wisdom of his actions for himself.

Do I misstate the case?

Helen?

Margaret?

No.

I don't know.

My dears, what about going to Nine Barrows Down for the day?

MR. WILCOX: Mrs. Munt, I did want to talk to you about some pressing business that calls Margaret and me to Hilton next week.

Oh.

Surely not.

But they were going to stop for the next ten days at the least.

Yes, I know.

The thing is, what I've done... Oh, I can't think why I go on like this myself.

But, Helen, why should you put things so bitterly?

Because I'm an old maid.

Go on and marry him.

I think you're splendid, and if anyone can pull it off, you will.

There's nothing to pull off, I...

Yes, there is.

Go on and fight with him and help him.

Don't ask me for help or even for sympathy.

Hence forward, I am going my own way.

I mean to dislike your husband and tell him so, but I mean to love you more than ever.

Yes, I do.

(kisses) AUNT JULEY: Margaret, Magsy, surely it can't be true that Mr. Wilcox is saying that you want to go next week?

Not want, but there's so much to settle, and I-I do want to see the Charleses.

Oh, but you're... you're going to miss out on going to Weymouth and-and the Lulworth trip and... Helen, have you heard?

(quietly): Good.

I did the breaking of the ice.

(gulls squawking, waves crashing) ♪ ♪ What's happened?

What do you suppose?

Are we there already?

We are.

MARGARET: Well, I never.

(door opens) Oh, that's no good, it's locked.

Margaret, why don't you wait in the dry, and I'll go down to the farm for the key.

It isn't 100 yards.

Mayn't I come to?

No, no, I'll be back before I'm gone.

(door closes) (birds chirping) ♪ ♪ (door creaks) ♪ ♪ (loud clattering) ♪ ♪ (floorboards creak) Is that you, Henry?

♪ ♪ (rain pattering) ♪ ♪ (footsteps approaching) MISS AVERY: Ooh.

(gasps) Well, I took you for Ruth Wilcox.

I?

Mrs. Wilcox?

I?

(laughing) Well, it did, it did give her quite a turn.

Did she?

Yes, it did.

Old Miss Avery!

I wasn't as foolish as you suggest.

Well... She only startled me for the house was silent for so long.

But who is she?

Oh, she's just one of the crew from the farm.

Um, I say, if Crane has had enough tea, we ought to go.

Mmm.

Children, come and say goodbye.

Come!

Come and give Miss Schlegel a kiss.

Oh, no, don't make them.

It's such hard luck on the little things.

What about Grandpapa?

Shall he have his kisses?

What about Grandpapa?

What about me?

I don't mind.

They're fine little fellows.

Little kiss.

Aw!

Thank you, Dolly.

Bye-bye.

Bye.

(baby crying) (birds chirping) Dolly is a good little woman, but a little of her goes a long way.

I suppose that rules out Howards End.

With Charles and Dolly 15 minutes' distance, I should think so.

(exhales) But, Henry, if we can't live at Howards End, (door closes) and you don't want to live at Ducie Street, where do you propose we live?

Oniton.

Oniton?

(car door closes) House in Shropshire.

Oniton Grange.

It's rather good country.

Evie's going to be married there in April, and we can move in straightaway after that.

Of course, we should keep the house in Ducie Street as a pied-à-terre.

(engine starts) Of course.

(gear shifts, engine puttering) (Mr. Wilcox chattering indistinctly) ♪ ♪ (train chugging past) Jacky, what are you doing out of bed?

Are you mad?

Is this the letter?

The letter, the letter to Miss What's-her-name?

That was before.

Those are... drafts of my letter.

"Reduced circumstances"?

Are you mad?

I told the Miss Schlegels everything I thought necessary.

Have you written again to say you've been discharged from Dempster's?

I won't ask them...

I wasn't discharged.

Call it what you like, my boy.

They reduced their staff.

How are we to live?

I won't ask for charity.

But this isn't charity.

All you want's a job.

I shall find a position.

I'll write to them myself.

You won't.

I'll write to your brother.

You will do nothing of the kind.

Just see if I don't.

No, you won't do... (coughing) Jacky?

(coughing) Come to bed.

You're ill. (catches breath) I shall write to Miss Schlegel, and to my brother, and anyone you like.

♪ ♪ I won't let you starve.

♪ ♪ Helen, are you sure you won't come?

No, you must let me beg off Evie Wilcox, Meg.

I shall come to your wedding, though.

Never fear.

♪ ♪ COACHMAN: Walk on.

♪ ♪ LEONARD: Dear Miss Schlegel, whilst I hesitate to write a second time, I felt I should inform you that my circumstances have lately taken a turn.

My recent arrival at Dempster's has lamentably coincided with a need for the bank to reduce staff and, as one of the newer employees, I now find myself without a position.

I apologize for being so forthright, but I wondered if I might petition for some further help in finding employment.

I am not one to beg for charity, but I find myself struggling to provide for my wife, and I am unsure how to proceed.

Yours truly, Leonard Bast.

(lock turning) Miss Schlegel?

Hello, Len.

Please forgive me, Mr. Bast, but I won't stand for it.

I-I must insist that... (birds chirping) (chattering in background) Charles.

(struggles) Oh, look, please.

Oh, thank you, Charles.

I could easily manage.

Well, we made good time, at any rate.

DOLLY: Why, Mr. Warrington!

EVIE: Albert, how good of you to come.

(car door closes) Miss Schlegel.

Oh, Evie.

Well, we are to be sisters soon.

Yes, let me kiss you.

Oh, it's so beautiful.

The house?

Oh, I don't know.

The view is rather nice, though.

That's what I meant.

Oh, what a pity that your brother and sister couldn't come.

Mr. Fussel, what do you think?

You must be choked with dust from the drive.

I'll have someone show you to your room.

I quite enjoyed the drive.

There wasn't any dust.

Burton, will you take Miss Schlegel to her room?

She wants to clean up.

Very good, sir.

MR. WILCOX: Margaret!

Well, well, well.

(chuckles) Henry.

What a beautiful place.

Ah, yes.

Ah, I'm glad you like it.

Mmm.

I'm glad you like it.

It's not the right part of Shropshire, so I've discovered, but I'll admit it's a fine prospect.

Now, then, Margaret, will you come inside?

Um, Burton, Miss Schlegel will want to clean up.

If you'll accompany me, miss.

No, I'd rather walk about the grounds a bit.

Will you come, Henry?

Not just now, and I should like you to help greet our guests.

Of course, Henry.

Mr. Burton, may you show me my room?

I should like to clean up a bit.

Certainly, miss.

(chattering in background) ♪ ♪ (birds chirping) EVIE: Well, I'm altogether off Dad.

Marrying that woman!

I never dreamed of such a thing.

He made me ask her to Simpson's.

What could I do?

Don't talk nonsense, you'll be all right.

I've two children to look after and another coming.

It's all very well, the pater saying he'll be just to all of us, but one can't be just indefinitely.

Money isn't elastic.

MARGARET (voiceover): I love this place, Henry.

I'm glad that it will be my home.

(inhales) Oh, dear, what a comfort to have arrived.

♪ ♪ (birds chirping) ♪ ♪ (indistinct shouting) ♪ ♪ (cheering) (chuckling) ♪ ♪ (train rumbling) ♪ ♪ This is a mistake.

Mr. Bast, you promised me.

I had no right promising.

It is humiliating beyond what any man should be obliged to submit to.

Why?

You've done nothing wrong.

She's no business taking a trip like this.

Even if...

I'm not ill.

I could do with a bite.

We can put that right easily enough.

No, I cannot allow you to pay for another meal.

The train tickets alone...

I'm sorry but if Mrs. Bast is hungry or unwell, it is my fault.

Mine and Mr. Wilcox.

He must be made to see reason or justice.

If it wasn't for... Or both.

Please, don't stand in my way.

Mr. Wilcox?

Is that your gentleman's name?

He's not my gentleman, but yes.

Henry Wilcox of the Imperial and West African-- what do you call it?

I don't suppose you know him.

Not I.

Miss Schlegel, I must insist on turning round at the next station.

JACKY: Oh, Len.

Mr. Bast...

I shall repay you for the tickets as soon as I am able, but I cannot... Oh, let it alone, Len.

Please do.

(chattering in background) Well now, Cahill, you're a Wilcox now.

What do you say?

But he's not a Wilcox, Dad.

I'm a Cahill.

I was rather hoping to be a Wilcox.

(laughs) Well, you are.

So you are.

Cheers.

♪ ♪ (birds chirping) I must say I'm very pleased.

Do you know, I'm quite tired?

(both chuckling) I think it did go off very well.

I'm so very glad about that, Henry, dear.

Who are those people?

Callers?

Oh, it's too late for callers.

Well, hide here, and if I can, I'll stop them.

(birds chirping) Helen, what is it?

Wait here.

Oh, what's wrong?

Is Tibby ill?

They're starving, I found them starving.

Oh, Helen, what have you done now?

HELEN: He's been turned out of his bank.

We've ruined him.

His wife is ill, starving, she fainted on the train.

Helen, are you mad?

Perhaps, yes, if you like, I'm mad, but I've, I've brought them.

Don't be absurd, they are not starving, and you know it.

I won't take such theatrical nonsense.

How dare you?

Yes, how dare you?

Bursting into Evie's wedding in this heartless way!

I want to see Mr. Wilcox.

How do you do, Mr. Bast?

This is an odd business.

What view do you take of it?

There is Mrs. Bast too.

How do you do, Miss Schlegel?

I'm afraid we're making a dreadful nuisance of ourselves.

Miss Schlegel.

HELEN: Dempster's Bank reduced their staff, and now he's penniless.

I consider that we and our informant are directly to blame.

We want Mr. Wilcox to get him back into the Porphyrion.

LEONARD: Excuse me, I told your sister, I hate all this.

I really...

I hope you do, Mr. Bast.

It's no good mincing matters.

If you intend to confront Mr. Wilcox and to call him into account for a chance remark, you'll make a great mistake.

I intend no such thing.

I promise you.

I made them come, I did it.

Kindly lower your voice.

I can only advise you to go at once.

My sister has put you in a false position, and it is kindest to tell you so.

You'll find a comfortable hotel in the village, where Mrs. Bast will rest, and I hope you'll be my guests there.

It's work he wants, not a holiday in Oniton.

They can't get back now, thanks to you.

I want... Do be quiet.

It's all right, Miss Schlegel.

I was wrong to write to you.

Wrong to ask for your assistance.

You were not.

Please, please, won't you go to the hotel and have a good night's rest?

And someday, you may pay me back if you prefer.

I don't know what to do.

This isn't my house.

Helen, offer them something.

Do try a sandwich, Mrs. Bast.

Helen, take them quietly to the George in Oniton, and I will talk to Henry in my own way.

If you don't, I will do nothing.

Now choose.

♪ ♪ MR. WILCOX: Was it townies?

(sighs) You'll never believe me.

It's all right now, but it was my sister.

I've bundled her off to the George.

Helen, here?

She refused an invitation.

I thought, uh, she despised weddings.

She's not come for the wedding.

Well, she must stay here, there's plenty of room.

Can't have her going... That's quite all right.

She's brought two of her proteges with her.

She must keep with them.

Let them all come.

They wanted to speak to me.

Later, I want to talk to you about them.

Why not now?

There's no time like the present.

There's a sting at the end of it, for I want you to find the man some work.

What are his qualifications?

You've met him before, in fact.

He's in a bit of trouble.

Oh, no, thank you, dear.

Just one glass, miss.

To toast the happy couple.

The happy couple?

All right.

♪ ♪ That's quite nice, actually.

That's right, miss.

(chuckles) HENRY (voiceover): Where was he before?

Dempster's Bank.

They've reduced their staff.

All right, I'll see him.

Mind you, Margaret, this mustn't be taken as a precedent.

I can't fit in your proteges every day.

I promise this is the last.

He's, he's rather a special case.

Proteges always are.

(Margaret chuckles) ♪ ♪ Oh, Henry, I'm so sorry.

Helen was to take them both to a hotel in the village.

I'm afraid she's overtired.

She's something else.

This won't do, I can't have her in my garden.

Madam, you'll be more comfortable at the hotel... Why, it's Henry.

MARGARET: Oh, bless us, what a person.

Oh, Hen, I'm sorry, I...

I didn't know.

I should have stayed at home.

I'm so sorry, Hen.

Truly I am.

I didn't...

I can't congratulate you enough on your protegee.

Henry, I'm awfully sorry.

Pray, don't apologize.

Don't be angry, Hen.

I'll go.

Why did she call you Henry?

Has she ever seen you before?

Seen him before?

Seen Henry?

(chuckles) Oh, these boys, and still we love them.

Are you now satisfied?

I don't know what it is all about.

Let's come in.

I now understand your interests in the Basts.

I don't understand.

You do not, I do.

I am a man, I have lived a man's past.

I have the honor now to release you from your engagement.

Henry... Henry!

Yes, Margaret?

So that woman has been your mistress?

You put it with your usual delicacy.

(catching breath) When?

Please?

(shuddering breath) Ten years ago.

(quietly): Ten years?

Please excuse me.

♪ ♪ I'm so sorry, Len.

Sorry for what?

Was that the man?

The man you knew in Cyprus?

I never would've come, as God is my judge, Len.

We neither of us should have come.

I suppose I was desperate.

We had to, Len.

I'm no use to you.

That's all right.

You're a good 'un, my Len.

You're a kind boy.

(exhales) You love me, don't you, darling?

Yes.

I love you.

(quietly): It's all right, Jacky.

Go to sleep.

(kisses) (door creaks) (wind whistling) (door closes) (door creaks) (fire crackling) I make it eight pounds I have spent making your wife ill and my sister angry.

She may disapprove of my methods, but I know you and Mrs. Bast will benefit by them.

I can never thank you sufficiently, Miss Schlegel.

Eight pounds is a lot of money.

I... don't know when I can repay you but I promise...

It is a lot of money to you.

It is nothing to me.

Nothing.

Can you imagine that?

No.

Is she very tired?

Mrs. Bast?

Shall I sit up with her?

No, thank you, she does not need company.

She's sleeping now.

It is better if she stops in her room.

Mr. Bast, what kind of woman is your wife?

You know my ways by now.

Does that question offend you?

No.

I don't want to buy your confidence with influence, eight pounds on railway tickets and rooms in a hotel.

Of course not.

But what I mean is you don't pretend your marriage has been a happy one.

(fire crackling) I suppose that's pretty obvious.

(chuckles sadly) But she's a good sort.

(quietly): You and she can have nothing in common.

We have companionship in common.

I needn't have married her.

But, as I have, I must stick to her and keep her.

What did your people say?

They... they will not have anything to do with us.

They had a sort of family council when they heard I was married... and cut us off altogether.

Who are your people?

My parents were in trade.

I have two sisters, both married to commercial travelers.

And my brother... is a lay-reader.

He is head of the family now.

(teacup clanks) And your grandparents?

Mmm.

(teacup settles) They were just nothing at all.

(chuckles) Agricultural laborers and that sort, from Lincolnshire, mostly.

And why... Why do your brothers and sisters object to Mrs. Bast?

I knew there was a man.

I didn't know his name until today.

I'm... frightfully, dreadfully sorry.

But it does not make the least difference to me.

I blame not your wife for these things, but men.

(exhales sharply) We shall be all right if I get work.

Then things won't be so bad again.

I don't trouble after books as I used.

If I could just get something regular to do, we should settle down again.

It stops one thinking.

Settle down to what?

Oh, just settle down.

And that's to be life?

What else?

But... and I am not naïve, but when, with all the beautiful things to see and do, with music, with walking at night, with...

I did talk a lot of nonsense once.

(chuckles quietly) Why should you say so?

Because I see one must have money.

Well, you're wrong.

I wish I was wrong.

The clergyman, he has money of his own, or else he's paid.

The poet or the musician, just the same.

The tramp goes to the workhouse in the end and is paid for by other people's money.

The rest is a dream.

You are still wrong.

If you say I am, then I am.

♪ ♪ We are all in a mist, but men like the Wilcoxes are deeper in the mist than any.

Sane, sound Englishmen, building up empires, leveling all the world into what they call common sense.

It isn't real.

Upon my life, it... it isn't real.

I must be stupid.

♪ ♪ Oh, dear.

(Helen struggling with window shutters) ♪ ♪ Here.

♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ MARGARET (voiceover): My dearest boy.

♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ HELEN: I am placing 5,000 pounds to your account and you will pay it over to Leonard and Mrs. Bast.

AUNT JULEY: Where's Helen?

It's been ever so long.

I'm dreadfully worried.

She may be ill, she may be mad.

You're hiding something; if a man played about with my sister, I'd send a bullet through him.

Oh, my darling, forgive me.

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