Tom and Viv Page #5

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- Wrong!

Tom may answer.

Come on,

for the cleverest man in England.

Come on, come on.

49?

What was that?

- 49?

- Correct! Correct!

I declare Tom Eliot

the cleverest man in England!

Ah, the benefits of an American education.

Well done, Tom.

Why are you glaring at me?

How dare you look at me like that!

Why give them the pleasure?

They'd have been perfectly happy

for you to lose.

We cheated.

Don't be so sanctimonious!

For an American,

you really are a god-awful snob!

Why do you take them so seriously?

- I mean this whole way of going on is ridiculous!

- Viv, stop it!

- Stop it, you're play-acting!

- It'll be over by the end of the war.

- And good riddance!

- If you're over-awed by their company

then you shouldn't have come!

It isn't good for your nerves.

They were showing off!

And you were showing off

- you wanted to win, I know you did!

- Not by cheating.

No, I know.

You wanted to be honestly,

truly, genuinely superior

as only an American who knows nothing

about anything can be.

Vivienne...

I don't think you're very well.

I've known this sort all my life

and not one of them is fit

to tie your shoelaces.

Daddy should never have done it.

You're not a money-lender.

It's a disgusting idea.

Hardly that. A banker.

I'll be working at Lloyd's.

Of course, you won't even consider it.

My poetry has sold about 200 copies.

- What kind of income do you imagine that gives us?

- You're an artist!

We could always borrow

some more money from Bertie

he doesn't mind a bit.

I've already accepted the position.

Your father has been immensely kind.

Can't you see what they're doing to you?

- They want to bury you, they want to drag you down.

- I have no idea who you are talking about.

How can you work when you are locked

in some dungeon of a bank all day?

I shall work at the bank in the day

and write at night

- nothing could be more straightforward.

- But what can I do?

What use can I be if you're away all day,

how can I help?

You do help. All the time.

With everything.

Well...

Bertie has offered to

take me to the seaside.

What do you think about that?

Well you know I can't come.

Of course not. What could I expect?

Important affairs at the bank, I suppose.

Well Vivvie, you must go, if you want to.

It'll be good for you.

Telegram, Mr Eliot.

Please come Tom, she's very low.

An influenza's settled on her chest.

I am sorry.

Viv and I, I want you to know

that I have absolutely nothing

to reproach myself with.

Of course you haven't, Bertie.

You're our closest friend.

Tom?

I'm here.

I'm sorry to be a nuisance.

- It's an awful bore, dying.

- Nobody's dying

I did so want to help you with your poetry.

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