Undercurrent Page #4

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I know what you're thinking,

and it's nonsense.

- I'm nobody, and he's...

- Don't you ever go to the movies?

- It happens all the time.

- Dink, look at me.

You're my father. You love me.

I probably seem fine to you.

But Alan Garroway...

Look at me.

Take the scales off your eyes and look.

You look.

Ann.

- Ann, look here.

- What?

Nothing yet.

A little alcohol, caustic acid.

Now change the formula.

A little, just a drop.

There.

- No nonsense now. That's tetradite.

- What's that got to do with me?

Well, love is a chemical formula,

like anything else.

I recognize the formula.

That's a very romantic conception, Dink,

for a scientist.

You're as bad as Joe Bangs

with his spark.

Don't fight, my dear.

Don't fight feeling the way you must.

But don't think I like the idea, I don't.

I'm a jealous father, selfish.

- I like our life together.

- Me too.

But it's happening.

Nothing can stop it now.

You're foaming, my dear.

- I'm not foaming.

- More than you think.

Now, pour you into a tube.

Let's call it a church.

Now change the formula.

Just a drop.

Just a drop of religious ceremony.

- The world changes.

- Nonsense.

Is that what you'll say

a few weeks from now?

When the chemist of heaven

in a long, black robe asks you...

To have and to hold

from this day forward.

For better or worse,

for richer or poorer...

...in sickness and in health,

to love and to cherish...

...till death do you part.

I will.

I now pronounce you man and wife.

All right?

I've been higher than this

the last few weeks, much higher.

- Will you fasten your safety belt, please?

- Yes, thank you.

This is it. Washington.

I'm impressed.

The nearest I've ever been

is a letter to my congressman.

I wired Warmsley to meet us.

He's the manager

of the San Francisco plant.

- Oh, I can't...

- Just relax, Mrs. Garroway.

- What did you say?

- What, Warmsley?

No, no. Who? Mrs. Who? Who?

You're very sweet.

Mrs. Garroway. Mrs. Alan Garroway.

Judas.

- Hello, Mr. Garroway.

- Warmsley.

This is my wife, Ann. Mr. Warmsley.

The daughter

of Professor David Hamilton.

- How do you do? Let me.

- How do you do? Oh, no.

That's all right. I can take this.

I have a car.

- What was the matter?

- Nothing. Why?

Well, he looked surprised. Why?

- Didn't you tell him?

- Surprised?

He knew I went to see your father

about tetradite.

You don't look at all like tetradite.

He's a good manager, Warmsley is.

- How's the conference going?

- All right, Mr. Garroway.

- I can leave for San Francisco tomorrow.

- Fine.

There's the Jefferson Memorial, darling.

Oh, Alan, this is an exciting town.

We'll have dinner and then

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