Sorry, Wrong Number Page #5

your name was Cotterell?

That's right.

There's a big drug company

named Cotterell. Any connection?

I'm afraid there is.

My father owns it.

You mean J.B. Cotterell?

- Anything wrong with that?

- No, it's just that...

I've always pictured J.B. Cotterell

as a walking tube of toothpaste.

What do they call you...

the Aspirin Heiress?

I believe it's

the Cough Drop Queen.

You know, there's nothing wrong

with your dancing.

- Do you do a lot of it?

- Not at places like this.

Oh. You're from out of town?

Well, that depends on

what you call out of town.

Oh, I don't know. Harvard?

- Are you trying to be funny?

- What do you call out of town?

- Grassville.

- What college is up there?

No college.

Just steel pipes and mica parts.

I'm sorry.

I didn't know.

That's all right.

To be perfectly frank with you...

I never even finished high school,

not that I wouldn't have liked to.

Neither did my father.

He never got past the seventh grade.

- You don't say?

- My father always says...

"If a man hasn't any talent

for making money...

college won't knock it into him.

And if he has a talent

for making money...

why should he waste his time

in college?"

There's something in that too.

Your old man ought to know...

when it comes to making money.

- Well, I'll be getting along now.

- Just a minute.

What do you say

we sit the next one out?

What for?

I've got my own car off campus

just outside the main gate.

It's a Lagonda. I just got it

from Europe. Did you ever drive one?

Never heard of it. Besides, Sally's

probably looking all over for me.

What difference does that make?

This is a public dance, isn't it?

Don't worry.

She'll never even miss you.

But what about me missing her?

Or did that idea ever strike you?

Come on.

Don't be silly.

For once, I'm not kidding.

Neither am I.

So long, Miss Cotterell.

I'm sorry I can't oblige that

Lagonda or whatever you call it.

I'd never put the two of you

together in a million years.

- Why?

- Well, you're both so different.

You belong in different worlds.

You don't belong here

in Grassville, Henry.

- What makes you say that?

- Just a feeling.

I've been around a good deal,

and I...

I think I can spot the real thing

a mile away.

Isn't that Grassville over there?

- Guess we'd better turn around.

- Why?

- It's nice here.

- Think so?

Stick around a few years

and see how much you like it.

Henry, that woman back there

in the house...

who opened the door for me,

was she your mother?

- My mother's dead.

- That's strange.

So is mine.

She died when I was born.

- What was your mother like?

- I don't know.

You mean she died young too?

She died last year,

but I never knew her.

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