- Aurora Fane is organizing another charity?
She must be a glutton for punishment
after the last time.
- You say that, but the bazaar made over $2,000,
which no one's ever heard of.
- She and Anne Morris were a laughingstock.
This is interesting.
- Do you know a woman called Clara Barton?
- No. - Excuse me.
What is it, Miss Scott?
- Just a letter for you to sign.
But I'd like to get it into the post before luncheon.
Quite right.
- Miss Barton has started a branch of the Red Cross
in the United States.
She's giving a talk at Aurora's house.
I'd like to hear Miss Barton.
- May I come with you? - Of course.
Thank you, Miss Scott.
Oh, look.
Miss Russell is going out.
With her wretched governess.
How can she stand it?
- I will not criticize Mrs. Russell
for her only virtue.
At least she keeps her daughter under control.
Under arrest, more like.
I wonder why her mother
hasn't brought her out properly yet.
- Because Mrs. Russell is not sure she can fill the ballroom.
You see?
I know more about these things than you give me credit for.
- You know I'd lose my job if your mother even suspects.
- I know you'll lose your job if she finds out
you've been taking brandy from the dining room.
It was purely medicinal.
Who is this young man anyway?
- Archie Baldwin. - Hyah!
He's very respectable.
His grandfather was an ambassador.
His father is a banker, and so is he.
His mother's people came over on the "Mayflower."
- Hmm, if everyone who claimed
to be on the "Mayflower" really was,
it would have to be the size of a White Star liner.
Where does he live?
35th Street.
And his parents are building a summer home at Newport.
- Well, why not just introduce him to your mother?
- He sounds ideal. - It's not as simple as that.
Here we are.
- Mr. Pasture's opening a magic lantern show
in his theater on Broadway.
It starts this Friday.
Fancy.
- Would you like to see it on your night off?
What, all alone?
- That could be my free night too.
Mr. Bannister wouldn't mind, not if we aren't entertaining.
I'll have to think.
- Don't think too long. It's only running a week.
Go on. You might enjoy it.
- Mr. Bannister, you wouldn't mind, would you,
if Bridget and I had the same free night this week?
- I would have to serve dinner alone.
- But you do that when I have a free evening anyway.
- Today's young live for pleasure.
You don't know what hard work is.
- And we don't know what fun is.
- What--what about Friday?
I'd be very grateful. So would Bridget.
I haven't said I'll go yet.
But you know you want to.
- I thought you'd gone hours ago.
- I wanted to finish some letters.
- Is everything set with the new station?
The bill's been passed.
And the stocks are high?
As high as the sky.
Then what's this about?
What do they mean, there's a rumor that the law
- may be rescinded? - Let me see that.
- If it's canceled, will the station go ahead anyway?
No, it can't.
Where's Gladys?
- She went out with Miss Grant. Why?
It isn't right, you know.
Miss Grant may be nice, but she's a jailer.
And Gladys is a grown woman whether you like it or not.
- Girls get married at her age. - And live to regret it.
I know what I'm doing, George.
I should go.
Were you expecting that?
No.
But it doesn't surprise me.
What are you trying to tell me?
- There's no need to talk as if I were your chauffeur.
- When I've finished, you'll wish you were my chauffeur.
You summoned me here.
- You came because if you had not,
I would have turned up at your place of business
and shouted the truth to anyone who'd listen,
that the aldermen are liars
and you have reneged on your deal.
- I've come to your office at your request
to show goodwill, Mr. Russell.
I will not stay and be insulted.
But I agree.
It is time you knew public opinion has moved away
from your position.
In other words,
you all bought shares on margin,
passed the law, and made a fat profit.
Now I imagine you've sold them short.
And you mean to cancel your own law,
betting that the value will plummet.
Then you'll buy them again when they hit rock bottom
and in the process double or triple your ill-gotten gains.
That is pure speculation.
I don't even know if we will cancel the law.
But the idea of having a new rail station
in the city
isn't as popular as we'd hoped it might be.
I see.
So you're really only concerned with the common good.
- The aldermen are public servants.
We must serve the public.
I didn't see this coming.
I admit it.
I thought you were honorable men.
Not too honorable to miss the chance
of a fat buck, of course,
but not greedy, dirty thieves.
Mr. Russell.
- I thought I was the one who might throw a curveball.
And now look.
You've caught me out.
Good day to you, Mr. Russell.
Good day to you, Mr. Morris.
It only remains to say
that I hope you can see, as I can,
the vast possibilities for building
one of the grandest humanitarian institutions
the world has ever seen
for the relief of people everywhere.
Miss Barton,
if President Hayes declined to support the establishment
of an American Red Cross
and President Garfield never managed to sign either,
what makes you think you can find support now?
I'm afraid unfortunate events
have altered things in Washington.
- And President Arthur may be more enthusiastic?
- I have reason to believe so, yes.
This has been an introduction only.
Who's that man?
- And I thank you for your courtesy.
If you would like to know more, then please keep in touch.
Our thanks to Miss Barton,
our very own angel of the battlefield.
She has already achieved a great deal.
And now at the head of the American Red Cross,
she is destined to do a great deal more.
Might I present myself?
You are Miss Brook, I think. Miss Ada Brook?
- I am. And this is my niece, Miss Marian Brook.
I am Cornelius Eckhard III.
I thought it was you.
- I'm afraid it's been too many years for me to call you Ada?
But this is too touching.
Oh, not really.
We knew each other when we were young
in Pennsylvania.
- Before life drove us to the four corners of the Earth.
- Have you been in New York for long?
- No, I settled in Connecticut. - Oh.
- But now I have nothing to hold me there.
So I came to the city.
- What brings you to this gathering?
An interest in the Red Cross?
- Not entirely. Mrs. Morris is my niece.
And when she said you'd be here,
I was tempted to see if we might revive an old friendship.
Not very old, surely.
How is your sister?
What--what is she called now?
- She married Mr. Van Rhijn almost 40 years ago.
Ah.
Please give her my regards.
- He must call on us and give them himself,
- mustn't he, Aunt Ada?
Ladies.
- Can we persuade you to the cause?
- I am persuaded, but, once again,
if it's money Miss Barton needs,
why don't we ask Mrs. Russell?
Don't speak that name.
- Perhaps not when Mrs. Astor's in the room.
Mr. Morris tells me
Mr. Russell has insulted him disgracefully.
What? Why?
- Why? Because he is not a gentleman, my dear,
as I keep telling you.
- There may be another side to it.
- You are too reasonable to live.
Now I must see to my guests.
- But how will they make money when the stock falls?
Trust me, they will.
And when they have fallen, they'll buy them again,
repass the law, make a third fortune,
and steal my company.
I blame myself.
My guard was down.
- Can't you fight it? - Not in court.
It's not illegal.
There must be other ways.
- If I do, I will have to put a large part
of our capital at risk.
Very well.
- You understand what I'm saying?
All this may be lost.
You've made it once.
You can make it again if you have to.
There are moments, my dear,
when you are quite marvelous.
Hmm.
Useless, each without the other.
Are you going up to change?
I am. And so should you.
- The thing is, I have a favor to ask.
You mean you want something
and you haven't asked your mother.
I do remember the Eckhards.
There were two boys and a girl.
I seem to recall they sold up
not long after I'd left for New York.
He talked like an old beau.
- Well, you know, I was just a girl.
Anyway, Eckhard had no money,
which did not endear him to Papa.
No money and no prospects.
I'm afraid not.
I wonder what he wants now.
He's lonely.
He's just arrived in the city,
and he hopes to find some old friends.
- So all this time, he's dreamed of seeing Ada again?
There's no need to be unkind.
- Maybe he has dreamed of seeing Aunt Ada.
What's wrong with that?
- Oscar, dear, I didn't expect you.
- Oh, I'm dining with Larry Russell.
Where?
- At his parents' house, of course.
- When you say those words, you stab me in the side.
- Then it's lucky you have the skin of a rhinoceros.
- Shall we go up and get changed, dear?
- Ah. When will your mistress be down?
In a moment, sir.
Is there something else?
- Only that Madam seemed to suggest
this is an important time for you.
Did she?
Well, I suppose it is.
- I just want you to know that we are all very much
on your side.
Thank you.
- Were you always drawn to banking?
That didn't come into it.
The United Manhattan Trust was founded in 1797
by Arnold van Rhijn, among others.
We've been at it ever since.
- I see. What a wonderful tradition.
- So you don't have to waste your time
worrying about what you want to do.
It's already decided.
- Mr. Van Rhijn is only being modest.
No, I'm not.
- Can we talk about Archie Baldwin?
- It would be very dull for Mr. Van Rhijn.
I don't mind.
I know Archie. His aunt is my godmother.
But isn't he, uh, a little young for you?
He's just a friend.
But father wants to ask him to dine.
- What? - I said I had no objection.
But she had to get your permission.
- I will decide who comes to dinner in this house.
He's quite respectable.
A forebear on his mother's side
was an officer at the battle of Yorktown.
Indeed.
- Did your ancestors fight at Yorktown, Mother?
Or were they too busy digging potatoes in Kerry?
- You will be civil to your mother.
Remember, her ancestors are your ancestors too.
Yes, Father.
- How is it going with the new railroad, sir?
Well...
these things take time.
Tell me, Mr. Van Rhijn,
what do you think of Mr. Post's new building
for the Brooklyn Historical Society?
It's all right, I suppose.
But I'm not an admirer of the Romanesque style.
Oh.
Are you, Miss Russell?
I don't know, exactly.
Perhaps not.
- Then my opinion is reenforced.
Who sent it?
- She'll tell us when she's ready.
It's from Mr. Raikes.
He got the job he was here to interview for,
so he's living in New York.
And what is that to you?
- You can't ask me to cut him dead.
- My dear, should you meet Mr. Raikes in the street,
then of course not.
But I suggest only that you do not seek him out.
He is not fit to be one of your circle.
He is not a suitable companion, that is all.
All?
It seems like a great deal to me.
I do not wish to marry Mr. Raikes.
Then we have no quarrel.
- But I don't accept that he's not fit to keep me company.
Certainly, he has behaved like a gentleman to me
from our first meeting.
I think I should be lucky to be in his company.
- Oh, Henry, Henry, must you live on in your child?
Can you not set her free, for pity's sake?
But what's wrong with him?
He is an adventurer.
Will you concede nothing to my age and experience?
I tell you, he is an adventurer.
And I am never wrong.
- Thanks for saving me at dinner.
I didn't want to be cross-examined
by that young jackanapes.
- I don't know what report he'll take home to his mother.
Why did he have to witness all of you pounding me
like a trio of prizefighters?
- Gladys must make friends, Bertha.
- Mr. Baldwin is not what we want.
How do you know?
Because he's not what I want.
Do you think Mr. Van Rhijn is interested in Gladys too?
What makes you say that?
Instinct.
- I think he may be, but I question his motives.
Gladys will be a very rich young woman.
- And if anyone plans to marry her for money,
he'll need much more to offer than Oscar van Rhijn.
What do you mean by that?
- Have you thought about how to deal with the aldermen?
I believe so.
But I can do nothing until they repeal their own law.
What I am planning may take a great many dollars, my dear.
But if I am successful,
it will be worth it.
I told you before.
We've made one fortune together.
And if needs be, we'll make and spend another.
May I stay with you tonight?
You have only to ask.
What's the matter?
You seem preoccupied.
- I am preoccupied, but nothing's the matter.
I think I've met the girl I'm going to marry.
We always knew we were going to have to marry in the end.
Did we?
I suppose we did.
- What's the alternative, to live in the shadows?
No, thank you.
Who is she, this girl?
Too early to say.
But she's perfect.
She'll have lots of money, which is essential.
She's an innocent, so she will suspect nothing.
And she seems nice.
I think we could be happy.
Really?
John, there are plenty of men
who have had to make exactly the same decision.
They can't all be wretched.
And what about us?
- Why should it make any difference?
Oh, I see.
- Unless I take to it like a duck to water.
You never know.
I'm only teasing.
Bastards.
They've rescinded the law?
Well, that's it.
There will be no new railroad station in New York City.
For now.
What are we going to do?
We buy.
We buy?
- Every piece of company stock that comes on the market.
And not a soul is to hear about it.
Hide the purchases.
I don't want them traced back to me, not yet.
Miss Ainsley.
- You look well this morning, sir.
Thank you.
I feel as well as Washington
looking down at the redoubts outside Yorktown.
He knew a great battle was coming.
A great battle he would win.
He can't have known that.
But he knew it was a battle he could win.
What a wonderful surprise.
Don't worry, I'm not staying.
- Then it's a little less wonderful.
But come in for a moment. Please?
Will you excuse us, Miss Scott?
- We shouldn't be in here. - Just for a moment.
I can't stay, really.
I'm meeting Aunt Ada at a luncheon party.
My loss.
So...
what have you been doing since I last saw you?
Are you enjoying your stay in New York?
My stay or my new life?
I'd love to tell you all about it,
but I suppose I can't call at your aunt's house.
What about luncheon at Delmonico's?
Madison Square, I mean, of course, not Broadway.
- I don't know the difference, but no.
Well, what about coffee?
Where?
In some salubrious hotel.
The St. Cloud or the Metropolitan.
- You know your way around already.
I'm a quick learner.
- Of course we can't meet in a hotel.
For coffee or anything else.
- You don't seem to me to be a person governed
by petty rules.
Not governed, I hope.
But I must live in the same world as everyone else.
- We could bump into each other in Madison Square.
- By Liberty's hand? - What?
- The hand from the proposed Statue of Liberty.
It was sent over here six years ago to raise funds.
But soon it's going back to France.
- That sounds like something I would like to see.
- Then we'll walk up and down and admire it.
Who'd object to that?
Aunt Agnes.
Well...
I'll be there.
When?
Next Monday.
5:00.
- You are incorrigible, Mr. Raikes.
And now I must fly.
Miss Scott, come in.
I must tell you I can confirm your suspicions,
even if I have no answers for the questions they raise.
- Have you seen what's happening?
- I have, and it's true. The stock has gone up.
It makes no sense.
The law's been reversed. The station won't be built.
- And the stock has risen-- - Not by much.
Not by much yet.
But they haven't even fallen a cent
when they should have gone through the floor.
Russell must be behind it.
Buying them as they come on the market.
- That's what everyone's saying.
But how much money would one man risk?
How much money has one man got?
And there you have it.
Even George Russell himself can only hold up the crash
for a day or two.
You're sure?
How deeply are you in?
So deep, I cannot see the sky.
I bet all I have.
So I won't just lose the money. I'll lose everything I own.
- Without the law, the company is ludicrously overpriced.
Delaying the fall will consume his fortune.
I hope to God you're right.
I must be right.
Morris.
What are you doing here?
- Well, I've just left a meeting
at Charles Fane's office.
- Have you, uh-- have you heard the rumors
about George Russell?
They're saying at the Union that he's ruined
or if he isn't yet, he soon will be.
- He's trying to maintain the value of his company
by buying all the shares as they come out.
And when he lets them go,
they'll crash through the floor,
taking his fortune with him.
That's what they say.
I'd better run, but, uh,
I can't get over it.
George Russell is finished.
Please, God.
Oh, there you are.
I was afraid you were going to miss your lunch.
Oh.
- But there's still some food left.
No need to get upset.
- It's not that. It's--
What?
- Something in your letter? - Did someone die?
No, no.
- Well, how long are you going to keep us in suspense?
- It's from the publisher of "The Christian Advocate."
Why is he writing you?
He wants to meet
to discuss publishing some of my short stories.
What?
I've never known anyone who's had something published
in the paper.
- Why should you care? You don't read.
- I get by. - This is very impressive.
One of your own stories in print.
- Ugh. - Don't spoil it.
Is our luncheon ready?
It is.
Miss Scott just got word that a publisher wants
to talk to her about her writing.
- Oh. - Congratulations, Miss Scott.
Thank you.
Excuse me.
- Oh, but you didn't eat your lunch.
- I wonder how long she'll keep working for Mrs. Van Rhijn
once she gets in the papers.
- It is not for us to speculate on such things.
Yes, Mr. Bannister.
- Miss Scott isn't the only one around here
doing something exciting.
We got tickets to the magic lantern show tonight.
That's right.
- Well, mind you come straight back.
Curfew's at 10:00.
We will, Mr. Bannister.
Definitely.
- Well, of course we'll have to raise funds.
There's always fundraising.
But in this instance,
we may have to take on the politicians too.
- Goodness, what will your Aunt Agnes say
about such a thing?
- Mrs. Van Rhijn will know that sometimes a fight
- can't be avoided. - Brava.
I'll make a sash for her to wear.
"Life, Liberty, and the Red Cross forever."
- Of course you're joking, but you make me tremble.
I know better.
Miss Ada Brook would never tremble.
She'd always fight for any cause she believed in.
- You may have confused me with my sister.
- There's nothing wrong with my memory.
In fact, I'm glad you're here, as it allows me to ask
whether I really may call at 61st Street.
- Aunt Agnes would like to see Mr. Eckhard again, I'm sure.
Oh?
Well, if you think so.
- How long have you lived there?
- My brother-in-law built the house in 1850.
And I joined my sister there when her husband died
ten years ago.
- They must have been marooned in a desert
when they first arrived.
Mrs. Van Rhijn had great foresight.
- Not really. - No?
- She wanted to buy in Washington Square,
but her husband insisted the city would move north.
He bought quite a few lots.
- And now New York has crept up the avenue
and made them priceless.
- It has proved to be sensible, yes.
- Have you heard about this opera business?
What's that?
- A group of new people mean to challenge the Academy of Music
and create another opera house.
- They can't. - They think they can.
They met at Delmonico's last week
and decided that since they weren't allowed
boxes at the Academy,
they were going to build their own house.
- Do we know of whom this group of malcontents consists?
- The usual. JP Morgan, of course.
The Rockefellers, the Vanderbilts.
Every opportunist in New York.
My lips are sealed.
- No wonder they couldn't get a box at the Academy.
- But what is the point of shutting out these men
and their families when they could probably build
an opera house that's 20 times better
than the one we have now?
Really, Marian?
I can see we're going to have to take you in hand.
- But surely-- - That's enough, dear.
Time to let other people speak.
Here you are.
Oh, this is good, Frederick.
- Anything else, sir? - It's enough for now.
Miss Scott.
A man was asking for you at the front door.
I asked him to wait in the street,
but he said he'd meet you at the park.
What sort of man?
Father.
- I thought it was time the mountain came to Mohammed.
I've been here awhile.
- But not long enough to come and see your father.
- I don't want to quarrel. - I won't quarrel if you won't.
Your mother's birthday is approaching.
I know.
- I come here to--
You were saying?
- We want you to come home. - Father.
Not to stay.
Your mother said you're unmovable on that.
- Just for her birthday.
- She hasn't been herself since you decided to leave.
- She's not the reason I left.
- But I can forgive you and get past it all.
- Forgive me? - Yep.
It would make your mother happy
if we could sit down and break bread
as a family in peace.
- I will come home but just for her birthday.
- Your mother mentioned something about
- working as a secretary? - Yes.
- What does that entail, exactly?
Writing letters for some old lady?
- It's a job for an educated woman
- that could lead to anything. - Really?
Exactly where is your room in that house?
All right.
It's in the servants' quarters.
But I won't be working for Mrs. Van Rhijn forever.
And the job allows me time to write.
- I don't know why you're bothering with that.
There aren't any colored writers,
especially women writers, who can make a living wage.
- I will soon find out how much colored women writers make.
How's that?
I have a meeting
with the publisher at Carlton and Porter.
They put out "The Christian Advocate."
The white newspaper.
Yes.
And Mr. Carlton is interested in publishing
some of my stories.
- Why didn't you try "The New York Globe"?
- I did, but they never answered.
Well...
if it doesn't pan out,
you can always come home.
And work for me.
I should get back.
What's wrong?
- What happened? - Nothing.
- I can tell your mother to set a place for you?
Yes.
Goodbye, Father.
- I'm going out, if anyone asks.
I'll be back in time to get him changed.
Where do you go, Mr. Watson?
What do you mean?
- Well, you often slip out for an hour in the afternoon.
I wondered where you go to.
Nowhere in particular.
Sometimes the park.
I like to walk.
- I may be imagining it, but I think Mr. Watson
has a soft spot for you.
Then he's wasting his time.
I've got bigger plans than a broken-down old valet.
That seems rather cruel.
- Life can be cruel, Mrs. Bruce.
But I mean to get the better of it.
- It seems mad to me not to take Mrs. Russell's money
when she has so much of it to give.
- Well--
- Or Mrs. Chamberlain's, for that matter,
whatever her past.
- You may have a point when it comes to Mrs. Russell
- but not with Mrs. Chamberlain. - No?
They say she's very rich, too,
and that she has a real interest in charitable causes.
- It may be so, but there are limits.
- What is she supposed to have done?
Well, before their marriage,
Mr. and Mrs. Chamberlain...
Knew each other.
- Don't most people know their wives and husbands
before they marry them?
Except in some Eastern countries, I suppose.
Yes, but their son is...
- older than he ought to be. - I thought he was adopted.
Well, so he is.
In a way.
- And it was all a long time ago now.
- People have long memories in this town.
Oh, there's Bannister.
Good afternoon, Bannister.
- Miss Ada, Miss Marian. - Bannister.
Oh, thank you.
- Why couldn't you see it coming?
- Because it's always worked before.
- Then why isn't it working this time?
- Russell has more money than God.
- Can't you tell him there'll be no profit in the deal?
- We tried to make a fool of him.
He won't find that easy to forgive.
You should get changed.
- If he keeps going, I'll lose everything I own.
We!
We will lose everything we own.
- It's a pity you and Anne Morris
decided to humiliate his wife.
I guess that won't have helped.
That was Anne, not me.
I wanted to use their ballroom for the fair.
Then why didn't you insist?
- There must be something you can do.
Appeal to his better nature.
That was terrific.
That made me jump.
- Don't worry. I'll look after you.
Not like that.
- I only-- - Not like that.
Shh!
Could you go to him?
- After the insults you heaped on his wife?
- I don't think so. - I only did what I--
- You only did what you thought was right.
- I had to follow Aurora's lead--
Don't insult my intelligence.
I don't know what you mean.
- You saw the fun he had destroying your bazaar.
Well, now he has the chance to destroy your family.
It can't be as bad as that.
- You have to go to Mrs. Russell.
Ask her forgiveness.
Call, grovel, kiss her feet.
Do what you have to do to get her to stop him.
- Patrick, you can't ask that of me.
- I'm not asking you. I'm telling you.
Or you'll have no position, no house,
and no one left to boss around.
- I thought we might stop for an ice cream, maybe?
Or just a cup of coffee?
You heard Mr. Bannister.
We're to go straight back. The curfew's at 10:00.
They don't own us, Bridget.
This is our night off.
We don't get many.
We can't miss the curfew,
and we said we'd go straight home.
- If that's the way you want it.
It is.
Can I hold your hand?
- I've told you. I don't like that stuff.
Now, come on.
Do you want to come to bed?
Not yet.
I need a drink.
What's happened?
Nothing.
Only that my plan has come apart
and I have to start again.
- I presume you mean the perfect girl?
About time you knew.
Her name is
Gladys Russell.
George Russell's daughter?
- But now, God damn it, the word on the street
is that Russell is finished.
Or he soon will be.
He's trying to hold up the value of his company
by buying all the shares.
But no one can continue that forever.
They think he'll be wiped out in a matter of days.
- And the girl is not perfect enough
to survive her father's ruin.
I can't marry without money.
I must have more money.
- You'll find another one. - Maybe.
That's not the point.
She was perfect.
Miss Scott?
But in your letter, you said that you're a secretary.
So I am. To a Mrs. Van Rhijn.
- But you never mentioned you were...
I'm not sure we can see you today.
- But Mr. Carlton's letter said he wanted to meet.
What is it you expect of us?
- I'd like your editor to publish my short stories.
Wasn't that clear?
In "The Christian Advocate"?
Really?
- Is there a rule against publishing the work
of people like me?
Well, not a rule.
I read your magazine a lot.
I like your editorials.
And I liked a recent article about the importance
of equal rights.
I want to test it.
Mr. Carlton is very busy.
I doubt he'll have time for you.
But you're free to wait.
I will.
Mr. Aubrey.
Yes.
Is Mrs. Russell at home?
- She's in the drawing room, sir, with Mrs. Morris.
Is she indeed?
Well, I won't disturb them.
I do not understand.
You are suggesting I should interfere
in my husband's business?
- Well, "interfere" makes it sound so very bad.
It seems that Patrick and the other aldermen
have miscalculated.
They thought the stock would go down.
But they have gone up.
- You have neatly encapsulated the nature of dealing in stock.
You try to guess which way they'll go.
If you're right, you make money.
And if you get it wrong, you don't.
Well, of course I know that.
- So what is it you want me to do?
- I want you to ask him to show a little pity.
To show mercy.
- Forgive me, but this is in payment for what?
I don't understand.
- You come into my house, you make this strange request,
and I'm trying to establish why.
Do you feel I owe a debt of gratitude?
Have you granted me a favor that merits a return?
- No-- - No.
Mrs. Morris, I hesitate to teach the basics,
but life is like a bank account.
You cannot write a check without first making a deposit.
Mrs. Morris is leaving.
Yes, ma'am.
- Mr. Carlton will see you now.
- Won't you come into my office, Miss Scott?
I apologize for making you wait.
When Aaron informed me that you were the writer,
- we needed a strategy. - I see.
- First, I have a question for you.
Did you really write these stories?
I'm sorry?
- They are beautifully constructed and executed.
They came back with the strongest recommendations.
And I want to be sure you wrote them.
Well, I did.
Then you're very talented.
Thank you.
As I stated in my letter,
we would like to publish one of them.
That's wonderful.
In fact, it's amazing, really.
Which one?
- We'll start with the story about the little girl
who lives by the bay.
Now, there are adjustments we'd ask you to make
so that your work is more palatable to our readers.
Of course.
- The little colored girl would need to be changed
to a poor white child.
But why?
Our readers will not identify
with a colored girl's story of redemption.
- But you said my stories came back
with the strongest recommendations.
Were those from white people?
Of course.
- But then wouldn't their reaction be indicative
of your readers?
Why would you change an integral part of the story?
- Because it would cost us most of our readership
in the South.
I don't approve of the system, I can say that.
But once gone, those people would not be back.
I see.
You said "adjustments."
Well, what other changes must I make to be published?
Your name is fine.
It does not suggest anything about your background,
so we can keep it.
But your race would have to remain concealed.
How would that work?
- We'd have you sign a document that you accept our policy,
which would prevent you from divulging publicly
that you are the writer of any stories we might publish.
My own stories?
- Once we buy them, they would be ours.
So...
you understand what I'm saying?
- I think so. - Good.
- "The Christian Advocate" is asking me to lie.
- It's the best arrangement I can offer.
You'd be paid handsomely.
More than you could make at any colored publication.
I realize that.
- There at least two white men sitting at a bar
around the corner drinking away their sorrows
because I turned them down.
They'd kill to be in your position.
- But they'd never be in my position.
Did I make a mistake?
I could have my stories published
in a newspaper right now.
- But you'd never be able to claim them.
And no, you did not make a mistake.
It was a disgraceful thing for him to ask.
- The worst part is, my father was right.
Now he'll gloat and insist that I come and work for him.
But you have a job.
It doesn't matter.
His way and his word trumps anything
I say or want to do, at least in his mind.
There must be other papers.
Hmm. There are.
But I haven't heard back from any of them.
- Somewhere there's an open door.
And you're going to walk through it.
If that's her hand, what size will the Statue of Liberty be?
- Big. - Huh.
Mr. Raikes.
So when it goes to France
and get stuck onto the statue's arm,
- then it will come back here? - That's the idea.
But they still haven't got enough money for the plinth.
- The government refuses. - They'll find it.
- Would you like to walk with us, Miss Scott?
No. Thank you, sir.
- So...tell me about your adventures in the city.
I'm enjoying myself.
Life in New York is very much to my taste.
Can I come to 61st Street yet?
Not quite.
- Is your aunt still being unreasonable?
- Who said she was ever reasonable?
That's a shame.
I have things I want to say to her.
- To them both. - What things?
Well, now, let me see.
I could start by admitting that I'm no great catch socially.
Things are improving in that direction.
- Mr. Raikes? - Of course, I have no fortune.
But I've got a good job and excellent prospects.
There's nothing wrong with being a lawyer in New York.
Certainly not.
But--
Do you hear that?
And if it's devotion you need to be sure of,
then I can say, hand on heart,
there is no man living who cares more for you than I.
Let me spend what remains to me of life
in the sole cause of making you happy.
- Mr. Raikes, we've only met a handful of times.
- You see, for me, I knew at once.
When you came to my office for help that time.
I could have ask you then, but...
now I'll keep on asking until you say no.
What if I say yes?
- Then I'll stop.
I should get back.
Send me a message when you want to see me.
- Are you all right? What happened?
He proposed.
I'm quite breathless.
- What did you answer? - Nothing.
- Nothing of any purpose. - You didn't tell him no?
I didn't tell him anything.
But you didn't tell him no.
- I'm sorry to miss your pretty niece.
- She's gone to the park, Mr. Eckhard.
Where are you living now?
- Well, right now, I'm down on 4th Street.
- But it's only temporary. - I see.
- What a beautiful house you have here, Mrs. Van Rhijn.
Thank you.
- Do I remember some of these pieces
from your old home when I used to call there
with my parents?
- Not really. These are my husband's things.
My brother sold most of my parents' possessions.
- Indeed, that must have been hard.
- I'm not sure I recall your parents visiting,
but perhaps they did.
I think I remember them.
- There's not much Miss Ada Brook forgets.
Of that, I'm sure.
- Yes?
- Ada, dear, go down and tell Mrs. Bauer
we will be three for tea.
Won't she already know?
- I want to gossip with Mr. Eckhard.
Oh.
Your sister is a fine woman.
- Shall I tell you what I think, Mr. Eckhard?
I think you heard from Mrs. Morris
Ada was still unmarried.
And you saw a way to mend your fences.
- Now, wait a minute. - I may be wrong, of course.
And your feelings may come from the heart.
They do.
I've seen her in my mind's eye so many times over the years.
- Still, I believe I should tell you,
my sister has little money of her own.
And in the joyful event of her marrying,
she would be obliged to move out
and take care of herself.
I'm too old to live with a man.
- I assure you, you've mistaken my intentions, ma'am.
Have I?
Then I apologize.
Just so you understand that marrying Ada
would bring neither income nor a place to live.
You see, you never knew why my father turned you down
all those years ago.
You thought it was your lack of prospects.
But you'd been heard boasting at a bar
that you were about to marry a meal ticket.
You were wrong about that too.
Ah.
Here we are.
It was on its way up.
My dear Miss Ada,
I'm afraid I've only just noticed the time.
I'm already late for an appointment.
- But you've come all the way from 4th Street.
And now he has to get back.
- But surely, you can stay for a few minutes.
- Nothing would give me more pleasure.
- Sadly, it's just not possible. - I am sorry.
Bannister, would you see Mr. Eckhard out?
- We can manage here. - Yes, ma'am.
- Ladies. - Right this way, Mr. Eckhard.
What a very strange thing.
I don't remember him as rude.
- Oh, I think he's just a very busy man.
Never mind.
I want your help with the menus tomorrow.
And please,
choose something that you really like.
I want to spoil you for once.
I can't think why.
I can.
- But I do not understand why I should stop buying
what's on the open market.
I like the company.
I have more faith in it than you.
- Won't you do the decent thing?
- And is that what you all did to me, Mr. Fane?
The decent thing?
- But if they will agree to pass the law now?
- You mean to pass the law again?
To pass it for a second time?
- You've made your point, Mr. Russell.
We've taken you for a fool
when it is we who are the fools.
- I won't fight you on that one.
- If you want me to kneel, I'll kneel.
If you want me to beg,
I am begging now.
We've already lost enough to make us poor.
But if it goes on for much longer,
there are some among us facing ruin.
Please,
end it.
I won't say I feel no pity,
because I do.
- But you have not only tried to get the better of me.
You and Mrs. Morris have snubbed and belittled my wife.
How could I allow that to go unpunished?
I don't suggest that you men committed every crime
that I'm avenging here.
But to employ a modern phrase,
I'm afraid you must face the music.
My secretary will see you out.
Hey!
There you are.
I thought I heard the front door.
- Are we expecting any of the children for dinner?
- Will's here, of course. And Louise is on her way.
But I don't think she's staying.
She's a good girl.
They're all good people, I'm happy to say.
What brought this on?
- Why? Must I have a reason to tell you
how proud I am of my family?
You have made me happy and proud.
You most particularly.
Enough.
I should be weeping in a minute.
Come in and sit with me.
We've got time before we change.
In a moment.
There's something I must do first.
- Is this just for me? - It is.
I'm a lucky fellow.
How's it all going?
- They've offered to repass the law
and let me build my station.
- So I won't have to scrub floors?
Doesn't look like it.
Is it finished, then?
- Not quite but almost.
It'll be a long time before the aldermen
try to get the better of me again.
But I think I've punished them enough.
- That sounds very forbearing of you.
I like to do the right thing.
If I don't lose any money by it.