The Woman on the Beach Page #4

You're fortunate. Did you enjoy your dinner?

Of course. It was delicious.

My compliments, Mrs. Butler.

Peggy would have been terribly disappointed if you hadn't have stayed.

She seldom cooks a real dinner these days.

You must have made an impression.

The Lieutenant's just being polite.

And I'm sure he would have had a much better time in town.

Have you a cigarette, Tod?

- Right here, Mrs. Butler.

Have one of mine.

This shipmate of mine was blind but...

...he could see the difference between light and dark.

Tod can't.

The nerve's cut.

- That's right.

But I still get plenty out of life.

You must miss your painting though.

Painting? No, I miss nothing!

I'm sorry.

I didn't mean to be so violent, I...

I must revise that statement.

There's something I do miss...very much.

Deep-sea fishing.

Fishing?

- Yes Lieutenant, it's terrific.

I love to feel that first nibble...

...and the strike!

You've got him hooked.

He tries to get away, and you hold him...

...fast, hard, relentless.

Peggy?

Remember that big tarpon I caught off the Key?

But what am I drooling about?

Nobody ever asks me anymore.

I can't go by myself.

Funny...I used to have so many fishing pals.

Well, put yourself in their place.

A man who can't see the difference between light and dark...

Suppose there were an accident. You wouldn't even know which way to swim to shore.

Sorry you caught on, Lieutenant.

I was hoping I might talk you into a fishing trip.

I don't like to put you out, Lieutenant, but didn't you say you

had to go on duty at nine o'clock?

That's right. What time is it?

Why do you wear a watch?

Oh...force of habit.

I like the sound of it, it's company.

Besides, so many people ask me what time it is.

Well, I...I really must go.

It's too bad you have to go just as we're beginning to be friends.

I'm still on the Coast Guard.

- I'll see you out.

Goodbye, Mr. Butler. Thanks for a fine evening.

Don't you think we might dispose of the "Mister" sort of thing?

Why not call me Tod?

What do you say, Scott?

All right, Tod.

Goodbye.

You're wrong, Scott. But so wrong!

Oh no I'm not.

You saw what happened with the lighter.

Yes, of course I did.

Tod's eyes seem perfectly normal,

but he can't see because the optic nerve was cut.

How do you know it was cut?

Because I did it.

You?

We used to...drink a lot.

We lived in a sort of strange state of excitement.

Always off-balance, high-pitched, tense.

Always just at the breaking point.

When Tod's drunk there's no telling how he'll react.

He can be unbelievably fierce and brutal or...

tender.

Too tender.

It was one of those nights I hit him.

It was broken glass.

Well, there it is.

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