-I oughtn't be trusted. Is that it?
-Really, Don.
After what you've been through...
After what I've been through,
I couldn't go to a concert.
I couldn't even face the crowds.
I couldn't sit through it with all those people.
Besides, I want to be alone for a couple of hours
and kind of assemble myself.
Is that such an extraordinary thing to want?
Don't act so outraged, would you mind?
All right. Anything else?
Please, boys.
Come on, Helen.
-You'll stay right here?
-Where would I go?
Then you'll be here when we come back?
-I told you, I'm not leaving this apartment.
-You've told us a good many things, Don.
All right, if you don't belive me,
why don't you tak emy key and lock me in like a dog.
We've got to trust Don. That's the only way.
Sorry, Don.
Let's go Helen.
-So long, Don.
-So long.
Bend down.
-What's this?
-That? It's whiskey, isn't it?
-How did it get there?
-I don't know.
I suppose it dropped from some cloud. Or someone
was bouncing it against this wall and it got stuck there.
-I guess I must have put it there.
-Yes, you must.
Only I don't remember when.
Probably during my last spell,
maybe the one before. I don't know.
Don't look at me like that, Helen.
It doesn't mean a thing.
I didn't know it was there.
Even if I had, I wouldn't have touched it.
-Then you won't mind.
-Mind what?
Now, you trot along with Helen.
Why? Because of that?
You think I wanted you out of the apartment
because of the bottle?
I resent that like the devil...
and if there's one more word of discussion...
I don't leave on your blasted weekend.
Let's go, Wick.
You'll be good. Won't you, Don, darling?
Yes, Helen. Would you just stop watching me
all the time, you two.
Let me work it out my way. I'm trying, I'm trying.
I know you're trying, Don.
We're both trying.
You're trying not to drink...
and I'm trying not to love you.
Call the farm Don and tell them
we're taking the six-thirty.
Sure.
So long.
-Come on, Helen.
-Should Wick...
What if he goes out and buys another bottle?
With what? He hasn't a nickel. There isn't a store
or bar that'll give him five cents' worth of credit.
Are you sure he hasn't got
another bottle hidden someplace?
Not anymore, he hasn't.
I went over the apartment with a fine-toothed comb.
The places he can figure out!
Who is it? WHO IS IT?
Mrs. Foley. Come to clean up.
Well, not today. Does it have to be today?
I ought to change the sheets,
and it's my day to vacuum.
-Come on Monday.
-All right, Mr. Birnam. Is your brother in?
No, he isn't
What about my money? Didn't he leave my money?
-What money?
-My ten dollars. Didn't he leave it?
-Probably. And where would he leave it?
-In the kitchen.
-Where in the kitchen?
-In the sugar bowl.
Just a minute.
I'm sorry, Mrs. Foley.
It isn't there. He must have forgotten.
Oh, Putt! I wanted to do some shopping.
-You'll get it Monday.
-All right Mr. Birnam.
-Two bottles of rye.
-I'm sorry, Mr. Birnam.
What are you sorry about?
Your brother was in. He said he's not going to pay
for you anymore. That was the last time.
-Two bottles of rye.
-What brand?
You know what brand, Mr. Brophy. The cheapest.
None of that twelve year old,
aged-in-the-wood chichi. Not for me.
Liquor is all one, anyway.
-You want a bag?
-Yes, I want a bag.
Your brother said not to sell you anything
even if you did have the money to pay for it...
but I can't stop anybody, can I?
Not unless you're a minor.
I'm not a minor...
Mr. Brophy and just to ease your conscience,
I'm buying this to refill my cigarette lighter.
Yes, sir. Thank you.
-Good afternoon, Mrs. Deveridge.
-Hello, Mr. Birnam.
That's that nice young man who drinks.
How is my very good friend, Nat, today?
Yes, Mr. Birnam.
This being an espeically fine afternoon,
I have decided to ask for your hand in marriage.
-Look, Mr. Birnam...
-If that were to be your attitude, Nat...
I shall have to drown my sorrows
in a jigger of rye. Just one, that's