up.
-All right. Would you like a taxi?
-No, thanks. I'm taking the subway.
Oh, very sensible.
As a matter of fact, I'm going to an extremely crazy party
on Washington Square.
If you'll like, I'll take you along.
Oh. Thank you very much, Miss St. James,
but I have to see a friend uptown.
-Oh. Goodbye, Mr. Birnam.
-Goodbye.
Who threw that?
-It fell out of my pocket.
-Do you always carry those things?
That friend of mine, the one uptown, he has a slight cold
and I thought I'd take this along and make him a hot toddy.
-Well, see that he gets a hot lemonade and some asprin.
-I shall.
Bye. Oh, Miss St. James!
Yes?
-What kind of a party was that you asked me to?
-A cocktail party.
-Invitation still stand?
-Of course. Come on.
Okay. So they go to that cocktail party and...
he gets stinko and falls flat on his face.
He does not.
By this time, he's crazy about that girl by then.
He drinks tomato juice.
Doesn't touch liquor for that whole week...
for two weeks, for six weeks.
In love, huh?
That's what's going to be hard to write.
Love is the hardest thing in the world to write about.
It's so simple.
You've got to catch it through details...
like the early morning sunlight hitting the gray tin
of the rainspot in front of her house.
The ringing of a telephone that sounds like Beethoven's Pastoral.
A letter scribbled on her office stationery...
that you carry in your pocket
because it smells of all the lilacs in Ohio.
Pour it, Nat!
He thinks he's cured.
If he could only get a job now,
they could be married and that's that.
But it's not Nat. Not quite.
Because one day, one terrible day.
Yeah? Go on.
You see, this girl's been writing to her people in Toledo.
They want to meet the young man.
So they come to New York.
They stay at the Hotel Manhattan.
Their very first day, she's to introduce him to her parents.
One o'clock. Lobby of the hotel...
Just walked in for a simple haircut.
No, that wasn't enough, not for New York.
They gave me a shampoo, scalp massage and a manicure.
Thought they were going to tear my shoes off
and paint my toenails.
I had a lovely morning.
Just did a little window shopping.
Didn't want to get all tired out.
On account of meeting that young man? Now, Mother.
Who did you get a haircut for?
-Wonder what's keeping Helen.
-She'll be here.
-This Birnam fellow went to Cornell, didn't he?
-I believe so.
But he never graduated. I wonder why.
-How old is he?
-Thirty-three.
He has no job. As far as I can find out, he never had one.
I wish Helen wasn't so vague.
Maybe he has a little money. Some people do, you know, Father.
-He ought to have a job anyway.
-He's a writer.
Writer? What did he write? I never heard of his name.
Now Father, relax. You always expect the worst.
I hope he realizes that Helen's our only daughter and
we ought to know a few things about him.
Those'll all come out...his background,
his prospects, his church affiliations.
Hotel Manhattan? Would you please page Miss Helen St. James?
St. James. Yeah, she's in the lobby.
Helen?...Don.
Darling, I'm terribly sorry
but I won't be able to get there for a while.
Will you please go ahead and have your lunch
and apologize to your parents...
Oh, nothing serious. I'll be there. Goodbye.
Turn off that light.
Don?
-Turn it off!
-For heaven's sake, Don.
I thought you were with Helen and her father and mother.
What happened?
Come on Don.
-I couldn't face it.
-Couldn't face what? Didn't you go to see them?
Certainly I went. One o'clock sharp. I saw them all right.
-Only they didn't see me.
-How was that?
Such nice, respectable people. I couldn't face them Wick...
and all the questions they'd ask me.
I just couldn't do it. Not cold.
I had to have a drink first. Just one.
Only the one didn't do anything to me.
So you had another and another. Oh, you poor idiot, Don.
Won't you ever learn with you,
it's like stepping off a roof
and expecting to fall just one floor?
Will