BUtterfield 8

---

Liggett.

Liggett?

- Good morning, Mr. Liggett.

- Morning.

Butterfield 8? Hi, it's Gloria.

Any messages?

Johnny.

George.

Listen...

...a Mr. Liggett will call sometime

today. He might use Mr. L.

Find me wherever I am.

This is one call I want to take

personally and immediately.

Okay, bye-bye.

Taxi!

38 Horatio Street, please.

Double your tip for a cigarette.

What's the matter, you crazy?

You're in good voice this morning.

I'm from the Census Bureau.

Good morning.

How many persons

do you have living here?

Just one. Me.

Well, that's not nearly enough.

- You working?

- Trying to.

Tomorrow's arrangements.

Tribute.

- To what?

- Your faith, hope and charity.

Sunday morning and scotch

on your breath?

Well, it's good scotch.

Twenty years old.

And cigar smoke?

I always said I'd try anything once.

Ever try common sense?

Only in desperation.

Notice anything unusual

about me this morning?

I wish I could.

Look.

Well, look!

You're panting to tell me

where you got it.

I stole it.

Sure you did. It figures.

Oh, not for real. Just long enough

to get even with somebody.

Even for what?

Somebody made me so damn mad.

He left me money.

He actually left me money.

- What would you have done?

- I don't know.

My work is designed so people

will leave me money.

This wasn't work.

Besides, my dress was torn.

I had nothing to wear...

...so I borrowed something

spiteful and elegant.

Liggett.

Weston Ansbury Liggett.

- Do you know him?

- Heard of him. He's very social.

And very Yale.

What's with you and Yale?

Always Yale.

- It's the last college left.

- Why?

I started with Amherst, and I worked

my way through the alphabet to Yale.

I'm stuck there.

Of course, I could work

backwards again.

Did he tell you about his wife?

- IHilljoy.

- I hear he's a lush.

A rumor of little mind.

We did have a drink last night.

- One?

- A dozen maybe.

And this morning you stagger

out of his apartment. Charming.

Funny thing, I don't even

remember going there.

Better than sleeping pills.

Can I help with anything?

Could I help you with anything?

Housework?

You put that coat back on.

Why?

Half-dressed women make it

difficult to concentrate.

Well, then don't.

Don't think of me as a woman.

After all, we're just

like brother and sister.

Remember?

You're mad at me this morning.

Put the coat on!

Why this morning?

Because I'm sick of seeing you

boozed up, burned out and ugly!

Sick for me or sick for you?

For you.

For everything you're wasting.

Why do you come here like this?

Where have I always come, Steve?

At least I can be honest with you.

Start being honest with yourself.

You're making a mess out of your life

and forcing me to watch it.

- Do you want me to go?

- Yes!

- For good?

- Yes!

No.

It's terrible, isn't it?

I say "yes" too much when I shouldn't.

And you say "no" too much

when you shouldn't.

But you're not nearly as mad

as you pretend to be.

I try to be.

Hungry?

Ravenous.

Now, the problem is,

how do I get home?

Car's outside. You drive.

- By the way, thanks for the use of it.

- Anytime.

What I mean is, what's my mother gonna

think if I show up dressed like this?

Your mother knows everything

about you.

That may be so,

but we never admit it.

I'm still her innocent little girl.

And she's my dear, sweet

cookie-baking mother.

So go home, give her an innocent

smile and have a cookie.

And tell her the truth.

If I tell her the truth,

I'll have to move out.

That's what normally happens

when people grow up.

If I left, she'd be lonesome.

I'm all she has, so we have

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