Why?
NANNY. Because you never say ‘Bang went saxpence whatever,’ and then you don’t wear the national costume.
ANDREW. What national costume? (NANNY points to her skirts and to his legs.) Oh, it’s only the English tourists that wear that; besides, you ‘re not national either, for though you ‘re an Irish girl, you don’t flirt!
NANNY. NO, never. Oh! there’s a fly in my eye!
ANDREW. Fly in your eye! Oh, I must operate at once.
(They sit up back. He tries to get fly out of her eye. BELL pulls up blind and MRS. GOLIGHTLY speaks to her through saloon window.)
MRS. GOLIGHTLY. Bell, the milk will be turned before W. G. comes across with it. He is so slow.
BELL. As we used to say at Girton, tardus in rebus gerendis.
MRS. GOLIGHTLY. Very likely, but that does not explain why the milk will not keep in this weather.
BELL. The reason is obvious — as the temperature rises, the bacillus lacticus —
MRS. GOLIGHTLY. You will give me a headache, Bell.
(W. G. heard whistling, BELL withdraws her head.)
MRS. GOLIGHTLY. Ah, I hear W. G. (Goes to stern; NANNY and ANDREW are waving to someone.)
KIT (not yet visible). Good morning, Mrs. Golightly.
MRS. GOLIGHTLY. Good morning, Mr. Upjohn.
(Punt draws up with UPJOHN and W. G. in it.)
KIT. I happened to be on the towpath, so —
W. G. SO I asked him to breakfast. Is it ready? We can’t keep Upjohn waiting.
MRS. GOLIGHTLY. In twenty minutes.
(ANDREW and NANNY go.)
W. G. Then we can go for a spin first.
KIT. No, I — I —
W. G. Oh, you don’t need to do the polite.
MRS. GOLIGHTLY. But perhaps —
KIT. I would indeed.
MRS. GOLIGHTLY. Take me instead, W. G. (She steps into punt, and KIT on to ledge of saloon door with milk can in his hand. Punt goes off.)
(Enter BELL into saloon.)
KIT. Miss Golightly!
BELL (starting and putting her hand to her heart). You startled me!
KIT (entering). I am so sorry. This is — the milk.
BELL. Thank you. (Puts it on table.)
KIT. When you saw me just now, you — you put your hand to your heart.
BELL. I was taken aback. Per torrita would you say, or simply trépida?
KIT. I did not come here to talk Latin grammar, Miss Golightly, you were fourth wrangler and I am only a plain man. (Pause.) A plain man, I said.
BELL. I did not contradict you.
KIT. But last night I asked you a question and you promised to give me your answer to-day. Is it yes or no? (She turns away agitatedly.) Do you care for me at all, Miss Golightly?
BELL. How can I, when we are on opposite sides on every question?
KIT. Do you? It is not a matter of logic.
BELL. It is — it ought to be. I don’t see how I can love you. I have reduced love to syllogistic form —
KIT. Oh!
BELL. On an old examination paper.
KIT. And what was the conclusion?
BELL. That it is absurd to think I love you.
KIT. What of that, if you do think it! Where is that paper? (He comes near to her.)
BELL. I — I tore it up, Kit! (They embrace.) Don’t!
KIT. Why not?
BELL. It is so — unintellectual.
KIT. But if we like it?
BELL. How can we? There is nothing in it.
KIT. You quaint darling!
BELL (stamping her foot). No! Promise, Kit, that you will never again call me such names.
KIT. But —
BELL. They are degrading!
KIT. Nonsense, child!
BELL. Child! Do you not see that you are insulting me?
KIT (kissing her). My beautiful!
BELL. You must never pay those infantile compliments to my personal appearance. If you love me, let it be for my mind alone, for all other love is founded on an ontological misconception.
KIT. We can settle all these little matters when you are my wife, Bell.
BELL. No, let us understand each other now. I must be your helpmate in all things. Should I seem unreasonable you must never humour me. No laughing me out of my arguments, nor kissing away my judgment. You will never yield to me for that most despicable of all reasons, because you think me pretty.
KIT. I will do my best to make you happy.
BELL. You will give up smoking?
KIT (after a pause — decidedly). No!
BELL. Not when I ask you? (She follows and embraces him.)
KIT. I have just promised when I think you in the wrong to say so.
BELL. H’m! You know how ambitious I am. You will stand for Parliament?
KIT. I mean to.
BELL. But we are on different sides!
KIT. Pooh! Your politics only amuse me, dear.
BELL. Amuse you, Mr. Upjohn?
KIT. Forgive me. I suppose it would be better if we were of the same colour.
BELL. Fortunately that can easily be remedied.
KIT. You will join us, Bell?
BELL. Never! But you can join us.
KIT. Bell, how dare you ask me to —
BELL. HOW dare you ask me?
KIT. Pshaw! A woman’s politics!
BELL. Oh, very well!
KIT. You are unreasonable!
BELL. I!
KIT. Be serious, Bell.
BELL. You won’t let me. It is the last thing such men as you want of a woman. Your heart’s desire is a baby wife, to be fed on chocolates and has she been a good little girl to-day, and would she like another pretty bonnet to play with? Oh!
KIT. You are provoking!
BELL. YOU are masterful — and a bully!
KIT. I will be master in my own house —
BELL. But not of me.
KIT. You realise what you are saying, Bell? It is my dismissal.
BELL. If you will not listen to reason.
KIT. You bid me go?
BELL (after pause). Yes.
KIT (after looking at her). Very well. Goodbye. Please tell Mrs. Golightly