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Your daughter is here, Mr. Wynant.
Haven't you got any more sense|than to shout like that?
- I'm sorry, but...|- Two weeks work gone for nothing!
- I just wanted to tell you...|- I don't care!
Get your things and get out!|You're through!
- I'm going.|- Get out!
Everybody interrupting me.
- Can I come in? Did you tell him?|- I didn't get a chance.
Why didn't somebody|tell me you were here?
How are you?
It's been the same one for three months.
- Forgive me. How are you?|- How do you do?
Take a good look at him, Dad,|and try to remember him...
...he's going to be your son-in-law.
- That is, if it's all right with you, sir.|- And if it isn't?
You see how much we have to say.
- Do you mind if I look around?|- Help yourself.
Tom, show this...
- Where are you going?|- Home.
- I'm fired.|- Who fired you?
Forget it.|Will you show this gentleman around?
Yeah, she would.
I hate all that fuss.|But I'll do it on one condition...
...that you're there to give me away.
But wouldn't it be embarrassing,|all of us there...
...your mother and me, your stepfather?|- He can stay home.
Please, Daddy, won't you?
- Lf you think it will be all right.|- You lamb.
Now, wait a minute.
When is it? I'm leaving town tonight.
Where are you going?
That's a secret. I can't even tell you.
I've got an important idea to work on.
A new invention?
I'll be home before Christmas.
- Is it a promise?|- That's a promise I won't forget.
- All right!|- Where's MacCaulay? It's time I started.
- How's your brother?|- He's all right.
I'd like to see him.|Why don't you bring him down?
You know how it is.|He's sort of under Mother's thumb.
Yes, I know.
You're not missing much. He's cuckoo.
Like all the rest of us?
- He's a brave man.|- Yes.
Thanks a lot, old man.
Gold, silver, copper.
Isn't that interesting?
All right. Good-bye, darling,|and don't forget, December 30.
- Good-bye, boy.|- Good-bye.
Take good care of Dorothy.
I'll do my best.
- Good-bye, sweetie.|- Good-bye, dear.
Is it all settled?
- It seems he has a secretary.|- I'll do my own typing.
Dad's a good barometer. Here's a taxi.
- Hello, Mr. MacCaulay.|- How are you?
- Did he tell you where he was going?|- He wouldn't say.
- Good-bye, Miss Wynant.|- Good-bye.
Here's your change, boss.
You wouldn't drive slowly,|so you don't get a tip.
That's okay, sweetheart, I got it anyway.
- Mr. Wynant.|- Hello. Did you get my money?
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