Marnie Script - Dialogue Transcript

Voila! Finally, the Marnie script is here for all you quotes spouting fans of the Alfred Hitchcock movie starring Tippi Hedren and Sean Connery.  This script is a transcript that was painstakingly transcribed using the screenplay and/or viewings of Marnie. I know, I know, I still need to get the cast names in there and I'll be eternally tweaking it, so if you have any corrections, feel free to drop me a line. You won't hurt my feelings. Honest.

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Marnie Script


  

   

                   

Robbed! Cleaned out!



 

                   

Nine thousand nine hundred

and sixty-seven dollars.



 

                   

Precisely as I told you

over the telephone.



 

                   

And that girl did it. Marion Holland!



 

                   

That's the girl. Marion Holland!



 

                   

- Can you describe her, Mr Strutt?

- Certainly I can.



 

                   

Five feet five.

A hundred and ten pounds.



 

                   

Size eight dress.



 

                   

Blue eyes. Black, wavy hair.



  

                   

Even features. Good teeth.



  

                   

- (Chuckling)

- What's so damn funny?



  

                   

There's been a grand larceny

committed on these premises!



  

                   

Yes, sir. You were saying,

ah, black hair,



  

                   

wavy, even features, good teeth.



  

                   

- She was in your employ   months?

- Mmm.



  

                   

What were her references, sir?



  

                   

Well, as a matter of fact -



  

                   

Yes, uh,

she had references, I'm sure.



  

                   

Oh, Mr Strutt, don't you remember?



  

                   

She didn't have any references at all.



  

                   

Well, she worked the

copying and adding machines.



  

                   

No confidential duties.



  

                   

(Strutt) Mr Rutland.

I didn't know you were in town.



  

                   

Just had a robbery. Almost $      .



  

                   

So I gathered. By a pretty girl

with no references.



  

                   

You remember her. I pointed her out to

you last time you were here.



  

                   

You said something about how I was

improving the looks of the place.



  

                   

Oh, that one!

The brunette with the legs.



  

                   

Excuse me. Mr Rutland's a client.



  

                   

I don't think you've got time

to discuss business today, Mr Strutt,



  

                   

what with your crime wave

on your hands.



  

                   

Oh, no, no. Always time for

Rutland business. You know that.



  

                   

How are things in Philadelphia?



  

                   

The little witch! I'll have her

put away for    years!



  

                   

I knew she was too good to be true.



  

                   

Always so eager to work

overtime, never made a mistake.



  

                   

Always pulling her skirt

down over her knees



  

                   

as though they were

a national treasure.



  

                   

She seemed so nice, so efficient.



  

                   

- So -

- Resourceful?



  

                   

(PA Announcer) Wilmington, Baltimore,

Washington,



  

                   

Richmond, Petersburg,

Rocky Mount,



  

                   

Wilson, Fayetteville, Florence,



  

                   

Charleston, Savannah, Jacksonville,



  

                   

Miami, Tampa, St Petersburg.



  

                   

(PA Continues, Indistinct)



  

                   

Hello, Mrs Maitland.



  

                   

Oh, so nice to have you back,

Miss Edgar.



  

                   

- We put you in your same room.

- Thank you, Mrs Maitland.



  

                   

Can someone drive me over

to Garrod's right away?



  

                   

- Of course. Anytime you're ready.

- Soon as I change.



  

                   

How do, Miss Edgar?

Good to have you back.



  

                   

Hello, Mr Garrod.



  

                   

Ah, there's my darling!



  

                   

(Garrod) That big spoiled baby

of yours knew something was up.



  

                   

Tried to bite me twice

already this morning.



  

                   

Forio, if you want

to bite somebody, bite me.



  

                   

Thanks.



  

                   

(Girls) # Mother, Mother, I am ill.



  

                   

# Send for the doctor over the hill.



  

                   

# Call for the doctor.

Call for the nurse.



  

                   

# Call for the lady

with the alligator purse.



  

                   

# Mumps said the doctor.

Measles said the nurse.



  

                   

# Nothing said the lady

with the alligator purse. #



  

                   

Thank you.



  

                   

(Girls) One, two, three,

four, five, six -



  

                   

Oh, it's you. Where's my mother?



  

                   

She's makin' a pecan pie... for me!



  

                   

That figures.



  

                   

(Woman) Who is it, Jessie?



  

                   

- Hello, Mama.

- Well, I just swan. Marnie!



  

                   

If you're not the very limit.



  

                   

I can't take in the way you jump

all over the place like you do.



  

                   

(Mama) Boston, Massachusetts.

Elizabeth, New Jersey.



  

                   

I brought you

some chrysanthemums.



  

                   

Those gladiolas are brand fresh.

Miss Cotton brought'em last night.



  

                   

I never could stand gladiolas.

I' ll get rid of these.



  

                   

For land's sake - Marnie,

now watch the dripping.



  

                   

Here, Jessica, why don't you

take these home to your mother?



  

                   

She don't get home from work till  ::  .



  

                   

I'm supposed to stay here till  ::  .



  

                   

Take them to the kitchen then.

Just get rid of them.



  

                   

Take'em to the kitchen

before they drip all over.



  

                   

We could stand gladiolas!



  

                   

I send you plenty of money.

You don't have to be a baby-sitter.



  

                   

Whoever said I did have to?

It's my pleasure.



  

                   

That smart little ol' Jessie.



  

                   

Marnie, if you could just hear

some of the things that she says.



  

                   

Oh, but I do.



  

                   

Seems I get a report

in exhaustive detail



  

                   

on all the bright sayings

of ol' Jessie Cotton.



  

                   

What's more, every time I come home,

she's roosting here.



  

                   

I see that you've lighted up

your hair, Marnie.



  

                   

- A little. Why? Don't you like it?

- No.



  

                   

Too-blonde hair always looks like a

woman's tryin' to attract the man.



  

                   

Men and a good name

don't go together.



  

                   

I brought you something, Mama.



  

                   

Now what have you thrown

good money away on?



  

                   

Oh, Marnie.



   

                   

You shouldn't spend all your money

on me like you do.



   

                   

But that's what

money's for: to spend.



   

                   

Like the Bible says,

"Money answereth all things."



   

                   

We don't talk smart about the Bible

in this house, missy!



   

                   

Well, I just swan! How do I wear it?



   

                   

Like this. Real high up under the chin.



   

                   

(Marnie) Oh, it's smart,

it's very, very smart.



   

                   

Goin' around buyin' fur pieces

like they was nothin'.



   

                   

Mr Pemberton gave me another raise.



   

                   

I told Miss Cotton my daughter is

private secretary to a millionaire.



   

                   

He's as generous with her

as if she was his very own daughter.



   

                   

Miss Bernice, don't you want

to get my hair brushed up



   

                   

- before my mommy gets home?

- I sure do, honey.



   

                   

You run up and get the brush.



   

                   

Oh, that kid and her hair.



   

                   

Puts me in mind of yours

when you was little. The colour.



   

                   

This side of the street

don't get the afternoon sun.



   

                   

My hip and my leg

ache me somethin' awful.



   

                   

(Footsteps)



   

                   

I got the hairbrush!



   

                   

Uh, Marnie, mind my leg.



   

                   

(Mama) I never had time

to take care of Marnie's hair



   

                   

when she was a little kid like you.



   

                   

- How come?

- Oh, child!



   

                   

Well, after I had my bad accident,



   

                   

first I was sick so long,

and then I had to work.



   

                   

(Jessie) Didn't you all have

a daddy either?



   

                   

No, we didn't. We surely did not!



   

                   

There.



   

                   

As pretty as brushin' can make you.



   

                   

Oh, sugarpop, it's five after  :  .

You better scat on home.



   

                   

And you be sure to take

your mama those glads.



   

                   

How' bout my pie?

How' bout my pecan pie?



   

                   

I' ll get it done tonight

and bring it over to you.



   

                   

Now, Jessie, you mind

you go straight home.



   

                   

OK. Bye, Miss Bernice.

See you later, Miss Bernice.



   

                   

(Door Opens, Closes)



   

                   

Do you really like the scarf, Mama?



   

                   

It's real mink.



   

                   

Oh, there. You look

just like an old man's darling.



   

                   

No man ever give me

anything so good.



   

                   

We don't need men, Mama.



   

                   

We can do very well for ourselves.

You and me.



   

                   

A decent woman

don't have need for any man.



   

                   

Look at you, Marnie.



   

                   

I told Miss Cotton,

look at my girl Marnie.



   

                   

She's too smart to go gettin' herself

mixed up with men... none of'em!



   

                   

Well, let's go on back to the kitchen.



   

                   

I've got to see to that pie.



   

                   

Uh, Marnie, I've been

thinking seriously



   

                   

about asking Miss Cotton and Jessie

to move in here with me.



   

                   

Miss Cotton is a real nice woman.



   

                   

She's decent. A hard-working woman

with a little girl to raise.



   

                   

Come on, Mama, why don't

you just say what you mean?



   

                   

What you want is for Jessie

to come live with you.



   

                   

Marnie, you oughtn't let yourself act

jealous of a little ol' kid like that.



   

                   

She don't bother me none.



   

                   

And we could always use

the extra money.



   

                   

The Cottons are mighty decent people.



   

                   

Why don't you love me, Mama?



   

                   

I've always wondered why you don't.



   

                   

You never give me one part

of the love you give Jessie.



   

                   

Mama -



   

                   

Why do you always

move away from me?



   

                   

Why? What's wrong with me?



   

                   

Nothing! Nothing's wrong with you.



   

                   

No. You don't think that.



   

                   

You've always thought there

was something wrong with me.



   

                   

- Haven't you? Always!

- I never.



   

                   

My God! When I think

of the things I've done



   

                   

to try to make you love me.



   

                   

The things I've done!



   

                   

Hm. What are you

thinking now, Mama?



   

                   

About the things I've done?



   

                   

What do you think they are?

Things that aren't decent, is that it?



   

                   

Well, you think

I'm Mr Pemberton's girl.



   

                   

Is that why you don't

want me to touch you?



   

                   

Is that how you think I get

the money to set you up?



   

                   

I'm... I'm sorry, Mama.



   

                   

I don't know what got

into me talking like that.



   

                   

I know you've never really

thought anything bad about me.



   

                   

No, I never.



   

                   

Well, I'm sorry. I really am.



   

                   

- I'll pick up the pecans.

- No, you go upstairs and lay down.



   

                   

You're all wore out. I'll ask Jessie

to come over and pick up the nuts.



   

                   

Alright.



   

                   

After all... it is Jessie's pie, isn't it?



   

                   

(Clunking)



   

                   

No, I don't want to. Mama, no!



   

                   

Marnie, wake up. Marnie?



   

                   

Don't make me move, Mama.

It's too cold.



   

                   

Wake up, Marnie.

You're still dreaming.



   

                   

- Get washed up. Supper's ready.

- Oh.



   

                   

I was having that old dream again.



   

                   

- First the tapping and then -

- I said supper's ready.



   

                   

It's always when

you come to the door.



   

                   

That's when the cold starts.



   

                   

- Miss Clabon.

- Good morning.



   

                   

Is Mr Ward in his office?



   

                   

Yes. He's interviewing for

the new office assistant.



   

                   

Rutland and Company is

an old established publishing -



   

                   

- Oh, Mr Rutland.

- This is Miss Blakely, Mr Rutland.



   

                   

Well done. You'll hear from us,

Miss Blakely, I'm sure.



   

                   

Thank you for your time, Mr Ward.

Good day, Mr Rutland.



   

                   

Good day, Miss Blakely.



   

                   

Well, I guess that does it. She seems

to have the exact qualifications -



   

                   

Come in for a moment, please.



   

                   

Now, sit down, Mrs... Taylor.



   

                   

Thank you.



   

                   

(Ward) I have here your

Pittsburgh references.



   

                   

Reference, that is. Kendall's, yes.



   

                   

This the only reference

you have to show us?



   

                   

Well, Mr Ward, I have good training,

but I've had very little actual experience.



   

                   

Kendall' s was my first real job.



   

                   

After I finished school, I was married.

My husband was a CPA.



   

                   

He helped me keep up

with my training.



   

                   

I learned a great deal more from him:

accounting, cost-price,



   

                   

- even something about computers.

- (Ward) I see.



   

                   

When my husband died

very suddenly last November,



   

                   

he left me a little money,

but I felt I needed work.



   

                   

Good, hard, demanding work.



   

                   

I got the job at Kendall's,

but it was -



   

                   

Well, it wasn't a

very exacting position,



   

                   

and there didn't seem much chance

for anything else at Kendall's.



   

                   

I don't mean pay. Salary isn't the most

important thing with me,



   

                   

but more interesting work, Mr Ward.



   

                   

Something that

will keep me busy, occupied.



   

                   

I don't care how much work

I'm given or what hours I work.



   

                   

(Ward) Uh, Mrs Taylor,

why did you leave Pittsburgh?



   

                   

After my husband died, I just -



   

                   

(Ward) Mrs Taylor, this is a post

of some confidence.



   

                   

(Marnie) Oh, please, let me have

a chance to prove myself, Mr Ward.



   

                   

Uh... very well, Mrs Taylor.



   

                   

I suppose you might as well

report to work on Monday.



   

                   

Miss Clabon in the

outer office will brief you.



   

                   

I'll be out in just a moment.



   

                   

Taking her on without references?

You' re always such a stickler -



   

                   

Let's just say I'm an interested

spectator in the passing parade.



   

                   

I don't get it.



   

                   

You're not supposed to get it.



   

                   

Hi, Miss Clabon.



   

                   

Hello, Mr Sam.

How's the curmudgeon business?



   

                   

Oh, Miss Mainwaring!



   

                   

Is Mark in? I want a free lunch,

and somebody to cash a check.



   

                   

I thought I'd stick Mark

for the lunch and you for the cash.



   

                   

Go right on in.



   

                   

(Ward) You have your

Social Security card, Mrs Taylor?



   

                   

- Of course. Right here in my purse.

- Who's the dish?



   

                   

Miss Clabon will show you around.

She's been with us for seven years.



   

                   

I believe she finds the work

exacting enough. Good day, Mrs Taylor.



   

                   

Miss Clabon, will you call personnel

and have them send the forms up?



   

                   

Certainly, Mr Ward.



   

                   

(Miss Clabon) Hello.

This is Mr Ward's office.



   

                   

Would you send up a W- 

and the rest of the employment forms?



   

                   

Yes, before lunch. I'll wait.



   

                   

Thank you.



   

                   

Maud, what about Saturday?



   

                   

No, I only thought as you said

your mother wasn't coming with us,



   

                   

I just wanted to make sure

about our reservations.



   

                   

Well, why don't you call me back?



   

                   

Alright. Anytime.



   

                   

Thanks, Mr Sam, I' ll try not

to do anything sensible with it.



   

                   

- Bye, Miss Clabon.

- Bye.



   

                   

That's Lil Mainwaring,

Mr Rutland's sister-in-law.



   

                   

- Her sister was Mr Rutland's wife.

- Was?



   

                   

She died about a year and a half ago.

Some kind of heart thing.



   

                   

Imagine. Only   .



   

                   

Well, anyway,

she kind of brought Lil up.



   

                   

Lil lived with them

and old Mr Rutland down at Wykwyn.



   

                   

I get the feeling little ol' Lil

plans to stay on... permanently.



   

                   

Anyway, like I was saying,

old Mr Rutland - that's Mark's father -



   

                   

they say he's never

even been inside this place.



   

                   

The company was headed into

the ground when Mark took over.



   

                   

They say the first week

he was here he retired... ha, retired,



   

                   

three board members, the acting

president, the president's secretary.



   

                   

Coffee time, ladies.



   

                   

- Do you mind bringing me a cup?

- Just coffee? Donut, Danish?



   

                   

- Lady, have I got for you a Danish!

- No, just coffee.



   

                   

- Oh, I'm out of red ink.

- Oh, here, use mine.



   

                   

- I'll get it.

- No, no, I will.



   

                   

Thanks.



   

                   

Mrs Taylor, are you hurt?



   

                   

(Mark) Mrs Taylor!



   

                   

I think she's hurt. Find out!



   

                   

Mary, are you alright?



   

                   

What?



   

                   

Of course, I'm alright. I just

spilled a little ink on my blouse.



   

                   

The way you rushed out of the office -

Mr Rutland's standing out there.



   

                   

- He said he thought you were hurt.

- Well, I'm not.



   

                   

All that happened was I spilled

a little ink on my blouse.



   

                   

Good heavens! What a lot

of excitement over nothing.



   

                   

(Phone Ringing)



   

                   

Why in the world does he keep locking

and unlocking that drawer?



   

                   

He never can remember

the safe combination.



   

                   

It's locked in that drawer.



   

                   

Mr Rutland and I have keys too,

for emergencies.



   

                   

It's only five numbers,

for Pete's sake.



   

                   

Mrs Taylor? I've just had a call from

Mr Rutland, Mrs Taylor.



   

                   

He remembered your saying

you'd be willing to work overtime.



   

                   

He wondered if you'd be prepared

to work on Saturday?



   

                   

- Saturday? Of course. What time?

- Two-thirty.



   

                   

I' ll advise Mr Rutland

that you are available.



   

                   

(Thunderclaps)



   

                   

- (Knocking)

- (Mark) Come in, Mrs Taylor.



   

                   

Good afternoon, Mr Rutland.



   

                   

Are you interested in

pre-Columbian art, Mrs Taylor?



   

                   

Those were collected

by my wife. She's dead.



   

                   

The only things of hers I've kept.



   

                   

And that's Sophie. She's a jaguarundi.



   

                   

South American. I, uh... trained her.



   

                   

Oh? What did you train her to do?



   

                   

To trust me.



   

                   

Is that all?



   

                   

That's a great deal...

for a jaguarundi.



   

                   

Shall we get to work?



   

                   

You can use the typewriter over there.



   

                   

I want an original

and one copy of this.



   

                   

If you can't decipher

any of this, speak up.



   

                   

I typed it myself and

I'm a very creative typist.



   

                   

"Arboreal Predators

of the Brazilian Rain Forest."



   

                   

Before I was drafted

into Rutland's, Mrs Taylor,



   

                   

I had notions of being a zoologist.



   

                   

- I still try to keep up with my field.

- Zoos?



   

                   

Instinctual behaviour.



   

                   

Oh. Does zoology include people,

Mr Rutland?



   

                   

Well, in a way. It includes all

the animal ancestors



   

                   

from whom man derived his instincts.



   

                   

Ladies' instincts too?



   

                   

That paper deals with

the instincts of predators.



   

                   

What you might call the criminal class

of the animal world.



   

                   

Lady animals figure

very largely as predators.



   

                   

(Thunderclaps)



   

                   

Put on the overhead light if you like.



   

                   

The switch is by the door.



   

                   

(Thunderclaps)



   

                   

Why don't you sit down, Mrs Taylor?



   

                   

If the storm worries you that much,

I'll get you something to drink.



   

                   

Mrs Taylor?



   

                   

The building is grounded, Mrs Taylor.



   

                   

You' re quite safe here...



   

                   

from the lightning.



   

                   

The colours! Stop the colours!



   

                   

What colours?



   

                   

It's over. All over. You're alright.



   

                   

OK now? Would you like something

to drink? Some brandy?



   

                   

- No, thank you. I'm awfully sorry.

- Oh, don't be silly.



   

                   

- Why do colours bother you?

- Colours?



   

                   

You seem to be terrified

of some colours.



   

                   

No, no. What I'm terrified

of is thunder and lightning.



   

                   

I wouldn't have pegged you as a woman

terrified of anything.



   

                   

Well, we've all got to go sometime.



   

                   

Look, this place is wrecked

and you're in no state to work.



   

                   

Suppose I drive you home.

You can do this job some other time.



   

                   

- Thank you. I -

- Go get your things.



   

                   

It's cold and damp here.



   

                   

I must get the maintenance people in.



   

                   

- I'm really sorry about the cabinet.

- Why should you be?



   

                   

You said it was all

you had left of your wife.



   

                   

I said it was all I had left

that had belonged to my wife.



   

                   

Oh.



   

                   

(Car Radio) "Native Winkler is second.

Hopeless is third."



   

                   

Oh, no please. I'd like to hear.



   

                   

- You like racing?

- I like horses.



   

                   

I go to the races when I can.



   

                   

- Was your husband a track fan?

- Yes.



   

                   

- And you go alone now?

- Yes.



   

                   

Atlantic City track's open

till the end of the month.



   

                   

We could drive out there next Saturday.



   

                   

Alright.



   

                   

- Are you fond of horses?

- No, not at all.



   

                   

(PA Announcer) "Fast Return

moving up on the outside. "



   

                   

(Announcer Continues)



   

                   

Well, that's another one.



   

                   

Oh, I like it here like this.



   

                   

You' re the expert.

What do you like in the next race?



   

                   

Lemon Pudding. He's finished third

his last three times out.



   

                   

- Got a good jockey up today.

- Lemon Pudding it is.



   

                   

The morning line says he's four to one.

I'll get on him.



   

                   

(Man) Pardon me.



   

                   

But you're Peggy Nicholson, aren't you?



   

                   

Remember me?



   

                   

I'm sorry. What did you say?



   

                   

- Aren't you Peggy Nicholson?

- No, I'm not.



   

                   

Yeah? I was pretty sure you were.

When I first saw you down here -



   

                   

I'm sorry, you've made a mistake.

I am not Miss Nichols.



   

                   

- Nicholson.

- Nicholson.



   

                   

Frank Abernathy introduced us

a couple of years ago in Detroit.



   

                   

Frank Abernathy.

You remember Frank.



   

                   

No, I do not know anyone

named Frank Abernathy.



   

                   

I have never known anyone

named Frank Abernathy.



   

                   

- Now, will you please go?

- Aw, come on now, honey.



   

                   

You're trying to pull my leg,

aren't you?



   

                   

(Mark) Now, why should any young lady

want to pull your leg?



   

                   

Oh, sorry. I thought

I recognised this lady.



   

                   

- Did he recognise you?

- No.



   

                   

- You did not recognise her.

- I said I thought I recognised her.



   

                   

- I said I'm sorry.

- Good for you. You've apologised.



   

                   

You may go now.



   

                   

- You came back so quickly.

- Yes. Who's your fan?



   

                   

I just seem to have one of those faces.



   

                   

Well, what do you like

in the next race?



   

                   

Can we go to the paddock?

I'd like to see Telepathy.



   

                   

Been watching him ever since I saw him

work out once as a two-year-old.



   

                   

Oh, I believe that's

our old friend Telepathy.



   

                   

Yeah, number eight. Telepathy.



   

                   

He's a lanky-looking piece of business,

but I bow to your superior knowledge.



   

                   

- What is it? What' s the matter?

- Don't bet him.



   

                   

- Why not?

- He's walleyed.



   

                   

Can we go now?



   

                   

What a paragon you are.

You don't smoke, drink or gamble.



   

                   

Just this once... for luck.



   

                   

- I don't believe in luck.

- What do you believe in?



   

                   

Nothing.



   

                   

Oh, horses, maybe.

At least they're beautiful,



   

                   

and nothing in this world like people.



   

                   

Oh, yes, people. A thoroughly bad lot.



   

                   

Generally.



   

                   

Did you have a tough childhood,

Mrs Taylor?



   

                   

Not particularly



   

                   

I think you did. I think you've had

a hard, tough climb.



   

                   

But you're a smart girl, aren't you?



   

                   

The careful grammar,

the quiet good manners.



   

                   

- Where did you learn them?

- From my betters.



   

                   

What about your tough childhood,

Mr Rutland?



   

                   

The old, sad story.

Promising youth blighted.



   

                   

Dragged down by money,

position, noblesse oblige.



   

                   

By the time I came along,

the company was hanging on the ropes.



   

                   

We had about      employees who were

about to go down for the count.



   

                   

What about the Rutlands?



   

                   

What would've happened to your family?



   

                   

Nothing ever happens to a family that

traditionally marries



   

                   

at least one heiress

every other generation.



   

                   

(Crowd Cheering)



   

                   

You shouldn't've chickened. Your

walleyed reject just won by   lengths.



   

                   

I think I've had enough. Can we go?



   

                   

If you like.



   

                   

The track's open

till the end of the month.



   

                   

That gives us two more Saturdays.



   

                   

If your luck holds out, by this time

next month, I'll be a rich man.



   

                   

- Oh, Miss Nicholson.

- You really are pressing your luck.



   

                   

Where are we going this time?



   

                   

I thought it was time I brought you

home to meet my old man.



   

                   

- You should've told me.

- You're alright.



   

                   

Dad goes by scent. If you smell

anything like a horse, you're in.



   

                   

Here we are, old bean. The homestead.



   

                   

- Hello, Dad.

- Who's this?



   

                   

This is Mary Taylor.

Mary, this is my father.



   

                   

- How do you do, Mr Rutland?

- A girl, is it?



   

                   

It's alright, Dad. She's not really

a girl, she's a horse-fancier.



   

                   

The track's closed. I thought if

I brought her to see your horses,



   

                   

- I'd hold her attention a bit longer.

- Splendid, splendid!



   

                   

Come along, my dear.

I was just about to have a cup of tea.



   

                   

Oh, Mary, this is my

sister-in-law, Lil Mainwaring.



   

                   

- Mary Taylor.

- How do you do?



   

                   

Hi. I've seen you

at Rutland's, haven't I?



   

                   

(Rutland) It bewilders me what any

of you can find to do at Rutland's.



   

                   

Oh, dear! I think I rather sprained

my wrist this afternoon.



   

                   

There's sure to be droppage

and spillage. Would you mind awfully?



   

                   

(Rutland) Strong, please.

No milk, two lumps of sugar.



   

                   

The meals in this house

are shocking bad,



   

                   

but I do insist on good

Horn and Hardart cake at tea.



   

                   

You take yours with lemon,

don't you, Lil?



   

                   

Yes, lemon for Lil, Mary.



   

                   

Strong with a dash of rum for me.



   

                   

(Rutland) Spinster's tea.

Mucking up tea with strong drink.



   

                   

- Something sneaky about it, eh?

- What's your opinion, Miss Taylor?



   

                   

Do you think old Mark here

is a sneaky one?



   

                   

Possibly.



   

                   

How do you take your tea, Miss Taylor?



   

                   

Usually with a cup

of hot water and a tea bag.



   

                   

(Rutland) Lazy habit, my dear.



   

                   

I'll have quite a large slice

of that butter cake, please.



   

                   

- Do you ride, Miss Taylor?

- A little.



   

                   

Best thing in the world

for the inside of a man or woman



   

                   

is the outside of a horse.



   

                   

I shouldn't think you'd find

old Mark very interesting.



   

                   

- Doesn't hunt. Doesn't even ride!

- Please, Dad!



   

                   

I was hoping to lead up

gently to all that.



   

                   

I'd even planned to show her

the horses first.



   

                   

Swill that down or bring it

with you to the stables.



   

                   

Mark's trying to act as if he brought

Miss Taylor out to see the horses.



   

                   

- He really brought her to see me.

- Really? Whatever for?



   

                   

Showing off. I'm quite

a presentable old party, you know.



   

                   

Lil, I'm sure your sturdy young wrist



   

                   

has recovered sufficiently

to pour Dad another cup of tea.



   

                   

- I will have another cup.

- I can't!



   

                   

"When duty whispers low, thou must."



   

                   

"Then youth replies, I can."



   

                   

Ratfink! And you misquoted!



   

                   

Will you come up and spend

next weekend with us?



   

                   

You can bring your tea bag,

have your pick of the horses.



   

                   

Good night, Mary. I have to run.

See you on Monday.



   

                   

Good night, Susan.



   

                   

(Woman) Good night. See you on Monday.



   

                   

I haven't got my powder puff.

Have you got one?



   

                   

- Come on.

- Wait a minute.



   

                   

- Come on.

- Alright, I'm coming.



   

                   

You mean we have to hang around

and wait until he calls?



   

                   

- Good night, girls.

- Good night. I'll see you.



   

                   

- Have a good weekend.

- Yeah.



   

                   

I think that's terrible.



   

                   

- What are you gonna do?

- I don't know. Let's get home.



   

                   

He may have already called you.



   

                   

If I miss his call,

that's the way it goes.



   

                   

This is the best one you've had!



   

                   

(Door Closes)



   

                   

(Indistinct Chatting)



   

                   

(Clunking Noise)



   

                   

(Door Opens, Closes)



   

                   

You' re sure makin' time tonight, Rita.

What's the big rush?



   

                   

I wanna get to bed.

That's the big rush.



   

                   

Please get down.



   

                   

You'll walk back to the stables.

I'll ride.



   

                   

Are you stayin' at an inn or have you

friends among the local gentry?



   

                   

- You said you didn't trust horses.

- I don't, but they trust me.



   

                   

Which brings us directly to our

relationship, Miss Edgar!



   

                   

Is Edgar your real name?

And you're blonde.



   

                   

You'll save time and make for better

feeling if you tell me the truth.



   

                   

Is Edgar your real name?

Now, don't crowd me, lady!



   

                   

I'm fighting a powerful impulse

to beat the hell out of you.



   

                   

At last we communicate.



   

                   

Now, for the third and last time,

is Edgar your real name?



   

                   

And don't bother to lie to me.

I'll check you out in every detail.



   

                   

- Yes. Margaret Edgar.

- Where are you from?



   

                   

California.



   

                   

- Where in California?

- Los Angeles.



   

                   

Where's the money?



   

                   

Here! Some of it.



   

                   

- Where's the rest?

- Don't worry. It's safe.



   

                   

Safe? At some pari-mutuel window?

Or gone on mother's operation?



   

                   

Or perhaps you're putting

your kid brother through school?



   

                   

I don't have a kid brother

or a mother. I don't have anybody.



   

                   

Not even Mr Taylor?



   

                   

I wouldn't be surprised to hear

the rest of the haul



   

                   

is with your late husband, Mr Taylor.



   

                   

Somewhere I expect to find him

happily reincarnated,



   

                   

the pockets of his good blue burial

suit bulging with Rutland money.



   

                   

The rest of the money is in

a registered package addressed to me



   

                   

in a post office box in New York.



   

                   

You can pick it up there by tomorrow.

Here's the key.



   

                   

Thank you, Miss Edgar.

Now I'll take the registration receipt.



   

                   

This receipt and the package are

as good as a signed confession.



   

                   

You understand that? Alright.

Now, where does Mr Taylor come in?



   

                   

There's no such person.

I've never been married.



   

                   

Mrs Taylor was an old

friend of my mother's.



   

                   

And when you applied at Rutland's,

the name just came to your mind.



   

                   

I was trying to get away from my

cousin Jessie. She's no good.



   

                   

If she found out about the insurance

money, she'd try to get some.



   

                   

Make trouble for me.



   

                   

- What insurance money?

- Mrs Taylor's.



   

                   

- She died.

- Oh, Mrs Taylor died. Pity.



   

                   

Now you're working with

this naughty cousin Jessie.



   

                   

Nobody's working with me!



   

                   

You talk as if this was some

regular thing I do... did.



   

                   

All planned in cold blood.



   

                   

- And it wasn't?

- No!



   

                   

You're not from Los Angeles,

Miss Edgar.



   

                   

Insurance is only pronounced

insurance in the South.



   

                   

And that's where you're from.

Where? Around here?



   

                   

You' re a cold-practised,

method-actress of a liar.



   

                   

- I can't help it.

- It would appear not.



   

                   

I don't mean that.

I mean, I wasn't born in California.



   

                   

I was born in Richmond, Virginia.



   

                   

My father deserted us

when I was a baby.



   

                   

My mother and I lived

in Richmond until I was seven.



   

                   

Then we went to California.

Mother worked in aeroplane factories.



   

                   

That's the truth. I swear it!



   

                   

My mother died when I was ten.

And Mrs Taylor took care of me.



   

                   

Come on, get moving.



   

                   

How did you find me?



   

                   

You're here to answer

the questions, ol' girl.



   

                   

How did you get

the combination to Ward's safe?



   

                   

- I took Susan's key from her purse.

- I see.



   

                   

Now, suppose you just begin

at the beginning.



   

                   

It's just like I told you. I was born

in Richmond. We were poor.



   

                   

We were grindingly poor.



   

                   

- I was so alone after Mother died.

- Well, go on.



   

                   

You still have my attention.



   

                   

I just went to school and took care

of Mrs Taylor until she died.



   

                   

She left me her house

and $     in insurance.



   

                   

I sold the house. It had a mortgage

so I only got $     cash.



   

                   

But there I was with $     ! Me!



   

                   

I could do exactly

what I wanted to with it.



   

                   

There isn't much more. I bought Forio.



   

                   

- Forio?

- My horse at Garrod's.



   

                   

I had two wonderful years.



   

                   

Then last November it was all gone

so I had to get a job.



   

                   

I went to Pittsburgh

and got the job at Kendall's



   

                   

until I could look around

for something better.



   

                   

Alright, let's try again.



   

                   

Let's back up and turn that Mt Everest

of manure into a few facts.



   

                   

One: Your dates are all wrong.



   

                   

Previously you were employed

by the firm of Strutt and Company.



   

                   

I saw you there once.



   

                   

Mr Strutt is the tax consultant

for Rutland and Company.



   

                   

He pointed you out to me.

You were a brunette then.



   

                   

Then some months later,

he pointed out your absence.



   

                   

You mean, you knew all

about that when you hired me?



   

                   

No. I wasn't positive.



   

                   

But I thought it might be interesting

to keep you around.



   

                   

And all this time you've been trying

to trip me up, trap me!



   

                   

Um, I'm not sure any more.



   

                   

I think I was just... curious at first.



   

                   

Then things got out of control and...

I liked you.



   

                   

So I see!



   

                   

Incidentally, I think

you took a bit of a chance,



   

                   

knowing that Rutland's

was a client of Strutt's.



   

                   

I didn't.



   

                   

My job at Strutt's didn't give me

access to all the clients' names!



   

                   

Alright. Let's... get on.



   

                   

We've established that

you're a thief and a liar.



   

                   

Now, what is the degree?



   

                   

Are you a compulsive thief?

A pathological liar?



   

                   

- What difference does it make?

- Some!



   

                   

It makes some difference... to me.



   

                   

Have you ever been in jail?



   

                   

Certainly not.



   

                   

I know you'll never believe me now,

and it's my own fault.



   

                   

It's true about Strutt. I did it.



   

                   

I don't know why.

I just kind of went crazy, I guess, but...



   

                   

Old Mr Strutt was so -

Oh, I hated him!



   

                   

Like you hate me?



   

                   

Oh, no, not you.



   

                   

Clean up your face.



   

                   

Come on.



   

                   

Good afternoon.



   

                   

- What'll you folks have?

- A frank and a coffee, please.



   

                   

- Same for me.

- (Waitress) Okey-doke.



   

                   

Let's get on

with that little discussion.



   

                   

The chronic use of an alias is not

consistent with your story



   

                   

of sudden temptation

and unpremeditated impulse.



   

                   

What if you'd stolen almost $      ?



   

                   

Wouldn't you change your name?



   

                   

Oh, what's the use? Why should I even

try to make you understand?



   

                   

I'm not only trying to understand you,

I'm trying to believe you!



   

                   

- Why?

- Because, damn it, I want to!



   

                   

Can you understand that?



   

                   

Here you are, folks.



   

                   

Mark?



   

                   

The reasons for what I did

at Rutland's,



   

                   

they were so mixed up,

what I wanted to say before.



   

                   

I needed to get away, can't you see?

Away from Rutland's.



   

                   

Don't you understand?

Things were - We were -



   

                   

So we were.

Was that any reason to run away?



   

                   

Yes. I thought it was time

I got out before I got hurt.



   

                   

I mean, why try to kid myself?



   

                   

- Are you called Margaret?

- Marnie.



   

                   

- Oh, God, Mark, if you let me go -

- I can't let you go, Marnie.



   

                   

Somebody's got to take care of you

and help you. I can't turn you loose.



   

                   

If I let you go, I'm criminally

and morally responsible.



   

                   

Then what -



   

                   

Marnie. Yeah, that suits you.



   

                   

Alright, Marnie,

this is how it's gonna be.



   

                   

I'm driving you back to Philadelphia.



   

                   

Tonight we'll go to the house.

Tomorrow you'll go to Rutland's.



   

                   

You' ll see that Susan's key finds

its way back into her purse.



   

                   

How can I go back to Rutland's?



   

                   

You' re covered. I replaced the money.



   

                   

When I called yesterday

and found you'd pulled out,



   

                   

I knew instantly what had happened.



   

                   

So I went to Rutland's

and checked Ward's safe.



   

                   

Figured the loss and replaced it.

Then I set out to find you.



   

                   

Remember at the races

when you were hot about Telepathy?



   

                   

You'd said you'd watched him

training as a two-year-old.



   

                   

That's all I had to go on,

so I looked him up,



   

                   

and found he'd been bred by

a Colonel Marston of Virginia.



   

                   

I phoned Marston and asked him

if anyone there had horses for hire.



   

                   

He gave me the names of three.



   

                   

Yesterday I drove up to the plains,

checked out the stables. No luck.



   

                   

But at the last place, the man said

why didn't I try Garrod's



   

                   

over by Middleburg?



   

                   

(Waitress) You folks be sure

and come back now.



   

                   

Why are you taking me

back to Wykwyn?



   

                   

Because I don't trust you

not to run away.



   

                   

How can I run away?



   

                   

You have the receipt,

the post office key,



   

                   

- my name.

- Margaret Edgar.



   

                   

You sure that's

all the name you have?



   

                   

You sure you haven't misplaced an old

husband or two in your travels?



   

                   

I told you I've never been married.



   

                   

- Near misses?

- No!



   

                   

And no lovers, no steadies, no beaus,



   

                   

no gentlemen callers, nothing!



   

                   

OK. Eat up.



   

                   

- Mark, I'd like to go freshen up.

- Uh-uh.



   

                   

You're fresh enough. Come on.



   

                   

You know, I can't believe you, Marnie.



   

                   

There must've been a great

many men interested in you.



   

                   

I didn't say men weren't interested

in me. I wasn't interested in them.



   

                   

- Never?

- No!



   

                   

That is... not until -



   

                   

- Why me?

- Because you were different, Mark.



   

                   

It won't wash, Marnie.



   

                   

But it's true! I really liked you.



   

                   

Yes, I think you did.



   

                   

But don't try to make it sound

like any more than that.



   

                   

When we get home,



   

                   

I'll explain that we had a lover's

quarrel. That you ran away.



   

                   

That I went after you

and brought you back.



   

                   

That'll please Dad. He admires action.



   

                   

Then I' ll explain that we' re gonna be

married before the week is out,



   

                   

therefore you should stay on at Wykwyn.



   

                   

That I can't bear to

have you out of my sight.



   

                   

He also admires wholesome animal lust.



   

                   

We'll be married just

as soon as the law allows.



   

                   

We'll catch an outbound boat.

Where do you want to go?



   

                   

- You ever been to the South Seas?

- What are you trying to pull?



   

                   

I'm trying to pull... a proposal.



   

                   

Let's see, how shall I phrase it?



   

                   

- How' bout: Will you be mine?

- You're crazy!



   

                   

- You're out of your mind!

- That's a possibility.



   

                   

The name. Marnie. Yes, I'll just go on

calling you Marnie.



   

                   

That's easily explained. Pet name.

But the Taylor.



   

                   

We'll just have to marry you off

as Mary Taylor. It's perfectly legal.



   

                   

You can sign yourself Minnie Q Mouse

on a marriage licence,



   

                   

you're still legally married.



   

                   

But you know what I am.



   

                   

I'm Minnie Q Thief!

I'm - I'm a thief and a liar!



 

                   

It seems to be my misfortune to have

fallen in love with a thief and a liar.



 

                   

In love?



 

                   

Oh, Mark, if you love me,

you'll let me go.



 

                   

Just let me go, Mark, please.



 

                   

Mark, you don't know me.



 

                   

Listen to me, Mark. I am not like

other people. I know what I am!



 

                   

I doubt that you do, Marnie.



 

                   

We'll just have to deal with

whatever it is that you are.



 

                   

Whatever you are, I love you.



  

                   

It's horrible, I know.

But I do love you.



  

                   

You don't love me.



  

                   

I'm just something you've caught!



  

                   

You think I'm some kind

of animal you've trapped.



  

                   

That's right, you are.



  

                   

And I've caught something

really wild this time, haven't I?



  

                   

I've tracked you and caught you,

and by God, I'm gonna keep you!



  

                   

Oh, and, Marnie, when we get home,



  

                   

no cute ideas about absconding

with the Wykwyn silver.



  

                   

Just get a grip on yourself

for one short week



  

                   

and after that

you can take legal possession.



  

                   

Like you?

Like you take legal possession?



  

                   

Yes, if you want to put it that way.



  

                   

Somebody's gotta take on the

responsibility for you, Marnie.



  

                   

And it narrows down to a choice of

me or the police, ol' girl.



  

                   

- Indispensable.

- (Rutland Chuckling)



  

                   

Ah, Cousin Bob, I almost forgot.

Do you have the old necessary?



  

                   

Have fun, my dear.



  

                   

Traveller's checks in this.

Letter of credit in this.



  

                   

Thanks, old man. Will you see about

having my car picked up at the airport?



  

                   

Bob is our banking cousin.

A very handy fellow.



  

                   

Take care, Lil.



  

                   

We'll send you a noble savage.



  

                   

- Goodbye, Dad.

- Bye, Mark.



  

                   

Thank you, Dr Gillian. Without you

it wouldn't have been legal.



  

                   

It's been a pleasure.



  

                   

(Rutland) Let's go finish the champagne

and cake before they spirit it away.



  

                   

Really splendid cake, you know?

I attended to that myself.



  

                   

I've made the acquaintance

of one of those



  

                   

excellent Horn and Hardart executives.



  

                   

That engagement ring must

have been at least five carats.



  

                   

Six and a half.

Blue-white. Perfect stone.



  

                   

His mother left

perfectly good jewellery.



  

                   

It's just sitting there at the bank.



  

                   

He wanted her to have something

that had never belonged to anyone else.



  

                   

But six and a half carats!



  

                   

And cashing in a bond

to pay for a ring.



  

                   

But he didn't pay for it.

He charged it.



  

                   

I helped him pick it out.



  

                   

It cost $     ... plus tax.



  

                   

Did you say $     ?



  

                   

The man's deranged.



  

                   

You know what he did to me

last Saturday?



  

                   

He came out to the club

waving a check for $    



  

                   

and insisted that I break up

my golf game, go in and open the bank,



  

                   

and hand over to him $    .



  

                   

Then he drew out -



  

                   

Well, let' s just say, enough to pay for

this trip, plus the letter of credit.



  

                   

He cashed that very nice bond

against my advice,



  

                   

made me get him the money.



  

                   

Ten thousand in small bills.

And when I asked him



  

                   

why he wanted $     

in small bills, he said,



  

                   

"Well, old man, I'm being blackmailed,

and they specified small bills. "



  

                   

I know that most people

find Mark's humour charming.



  

                   

I do not. There is nothing charming

about running through -



  

                   

Including the unpaid bill for a ring,



  

                   

approximately $      in one week.



  

                   

A $     or $    

South Seas honeymoon,



  

                   

conservatively speaking,

and a $      ring.



  

                   

All that money spent to celebrate what?



  

                   

This meager, furtive little wedding?



  

                   

He didn't even ask Mother.



  

                   

"Pay off Strutt."



  

                   

Strutt.



  

                   

Booze?



  

                   

Shall I, uh, fix you a drink?



  

                   

(Knocking)



  

                   

Would you like some bourbon

to brush your teeth?



  

                   

(Marnie) No, thank you.



  

                   

Contrary to the movies

and the Ladies Home Journal,



  

                   

the battleground of marriage

is not, I repeat, not,



  

                   

the... bedroom.



  

                   

The real field of battle is the bath.



  

                   

It is in the bath and for the bath,



  

                   

that the lines are drawn

and no quarter given.



  

                   

It seems to me, we are getting off

to a dangerously poor start, darling.



  

                   

You've been in the bathroom

exactly    minutes.



  

                   

You can have the bath now.



  

                   

Thank you.



  

                   

You're very sexy

with your face clean.



  

                   

Marnie, come here.



  

                   

Sit down.



  

                   

I... can't! I can't! I can't!



  

                   

For God's sake, Marnie!



  

                   

I can't stand it! I'll die!

If you touch me again, I'll die!



  

                   

I promise I won't touch you. Just

get out of that damn corner, please.



  

                   

Now, suppose you tell me

what this is all about.



  

                   

Is it your own little way of saying



  

                   

you don't find me particularly

attractive?



  

                   

I told you not to marry me.

I told you!



   

                   

Oh, God, why couldn't

you have just let me go?



   

                   

Marnie.



   

                   

- Don't! Please, don't!

- Let me fix you a drink.



   

                   

- I don't want a drink.

- A brandy -



   

                   

I don't want it. Just leave me alone!



   

                   

Not till I find out what's the matter,

and some way to help.



   

                   

The only way you can help me

is to leave me alone!



   

                   

Can't you understand? Isn't it clear?

I cannot bear to be handled!



   

                   

- By anybody? Or just me?

- You. Men.



   

                   

Really?



   

                   

You didn't seem to mind

at my office that day, or at the stables.



   

                   

And all this last week

I've handled you.



   

                   

I've kissed you many times.



   

                   

Why didn't you break out into a cold

sweat and back into a corner then?



   

                   

- I thought I could stand it if I had to.

- I see.



   

                   

Have you always felt like this?



   

                   

- Always, yes!

- Why? What happened to you?



   

                   

Happened? Nothing.

Nothing happened to me.



   

                   

I just never wanted anybody

to touch me!



   

                   

You ever tried to talk about it,



   

                   

to a doctor or somebody

who could help you?



   

                   

No, why should I?

I didn't want to get married.



   

                   

It's degrading. It's animal!



   

                   

Anyway, I was doing alright

the way I was.



   

                   

I wouldn't say that. If I hadn't caught

you, you'd have gone on stealing.



   

                   

- No. No I wouldn't

- Yes, you would, again and again.



   

                   

Eventually, you would've

got caught by somebody.



   

                   

You're such a tempting little thing.



   

                   

Some other sexual blackmailer

would've got his hands on you.



   

                   

The chances of it being someone as

permissive as me are pretty remote.



   

                   

Sooner or later,

you'd have gone to jail.



   

                   

Or been cornered in an office by some

old bull of a businessman



   

                   

who was out to take what he figured

was coming to him.



   

                   

You'd probably have got him and jail.



   

                   

So I wouldn't say you were

doing alright, Marnie.



   

                   

- I'd say you needed help.

- I don't need your help.



   

                   

I don't think you're capable

of judging what you need.



   

                   

What you do need, I expect,

is a psychiatrist.



   

                   

Oh... men!



   

                   

Say "no thanks to one", and bingo,

you're a candidate for the funny farm.



   

                   

It would be hilarious

if it weren't pathetic.



   

                   

Let's try to get some rest, hm?

We'll talk this out tomorrow.



   

                   

There's nothing to talk out.

I've told you how I feel.



   

                   

I'll feel the same way tomorrow,

and the day after, and the day after that!



   

                   

Alright, Marnie. We won't talk about it

until you want to.



   

                   

But we're gonna be on this damn boat

for many days and nights.



   

                   

Let's drop this for the present

and try to get through this



   

                   

bloody honeymoon cruise with

as much grace as possible.



   

                   

Let's try at least to be...

kind to each other.



   

                   

Oh. Kind!



   

                   

Alright, if that's too much,

I'll be kind to you,



   

                   

- and you'll be polite to me -

- You won't -



   

                   

I won't.



   

                   

I give you my word.



   

                   

Now, let's try to get

some rest, hm? How'bout it?



   

                   

You in your bed over there, and me,

light years away in mine here.



   

                   

Thank you.



   

                   

I think I'd like to stay out here

for a while, but... thank you.



   

                   

You're gonna bring a little pazazz

down to the old farm, my dear.



   

                   

I noticed before we left,

Dad was pulling out his silk shirts.



   

                   

What do you mean,

what will I do with myself?



   

                   

I had of course assumed

I would become a society hostess.



   

                   

In Africa, in Kenya, there's quite

a beautiful flower.



   

                   

It's coral coloured with

little green-tipped blossoms,



   

                   

rather like a hyacinth.



   

                   

If you reach out to touch it,



   

                   

you'd discover that the flower

was not a flower at all,



   

                   

but a design made up of hundreds

of tiny insects called Fattid bugs.



   

                   

They escape the eyes of hungry birds



   

                   

by living and dying

in the shape of a flower.



   

                   

I'll close the door, if you don't mind.

The light bothers me.



   

                   

Hm, what's that, dear?

The light? Oh, yes, of course.



   

                   

You've been an absolute darling

about my sitting up reading so late.



   

                   

I'm boning up on marine life



   

                   

since entomology doesn't seem

to be your subject,



   

                   

and I'm eager to find a subject,

Marnie, any subject.



   

                   

Alright. Here's a subject.



   

                   

How long? How long do we have to stay

on this boat, this trip?



   

                   

How long before we can go back?



   

                   

Why, Mrs Rutland!

Can you be suggesting



   

                   

that these halcyon

honeymoon days and nights,



   

                   

just the two of us alone

together... should ever end?



   

                   

If you don't mind,

I'd like to go to bed.



   

                   

I've told you the light

from the sitting room bothers me.



   

                   

We certainly can't have anything

bothering you, can we?



   

                   

(Door Slams)



   

                   

If you don't want to go

to bed, please get out.



   

                   

But I do want to go to bed, Marnie.



   

                   

I very much want to go to bed.



   

                   

(Screams) No!



   

                   

(Gasps)



   

                   

I'm sorry, Marnie.



   

                   

(Door Closes)



   

                   

(Coughs)



   

                   

Why the hell

didn't you jump over the side?



   

                   

The idea was to kill myself,

not feed the damn fish.



   

                   

Mark!



   

                   

Oh, I'm so glad to see you.

Was Fiji grisly?



   

                   

We didn't get to Fiji. We jumped ship

in Honolulu and flew back.



   

                   

We had to take a cab from the airport.

We're tired and grimy.



   

                   

Remember when you were six?

You wanted to go to New York.



   

                   

I warned you then that

travelling was a nasty business.



   

                   

You poor thing.

You must be exhausted.



   

                   

I think that we'll go after the

first drink and pop up to bed.



   

                   

The travel lecture will

have to wait for morning.



   

                   

- Where's the rest of your luggage?

- A t the airport.



   

                   

I' ll have breakfast with you in the

morning, dad. See you then, Lil.



   

                   

Come on, Marnie. It's not exactly

a house of correction, you know.



   

                   

Look, Marnie,



   

                   

for the present all we've got is the

facade, and we've got to live it.



   

                   

Dad has breakfast downstairs

at  ::   every morning.



   

                   

I always join him. So, naturally,

as you want to be with me as -



   

                   

This is the drill, dear.



   

                   

Wife follows husband to front door.

Gives and or gets a kiss.



   

                   

Stands pensively as he drives away.



   

                   

Oh, a wistful little wave is optional.



   

                   

Mark, are you... going to the office?



   

                   

On the first day back after our

honeymoon? How indelicate.



   

                   

No, I'm going down the road

on a little errand. I'll see you later.



   

                   

Mark, I, um...

I don't have any money.



   

                   

I'm sorry, Marnie. I'll have Bob

make out an account for you.



   

                   

It won't be much for a while. You see,

I've had a lot of heavy expenses.



   

                   

And you might as well know

I've paid off Strutt.



   

                   

Anonymously, of course.



   

                   

- (Marnie) But that's all over!

- So?



   

                   

(Marnie) So, you've given away $     



   

                   

so you' re a prize fool!



   

                   

Possibly, but they don't put

you in jail for being a fool.



   

                   

I'm not the one the cops are after.

Not yet.



   

                   

And I don't intend to be.

Not if I can prevent it.



   

                   

Perhaps you, madam, but not me.



   

                   

(Phone Dialling)



   

                   

Hello, Mama?



   

                   

No, I'm alright.

I'm perfectly alright now.



   

                   

I had a bad case of the flu

and just didn't feel up to writing.



   

                   

I couldn't. I had laryngitis too.



   

                   

Yes, I am still a little hoarse.



   

                   

Look, Mama, I can't talk long.



   

                   

I just called to tell you that I'm

alright and I'll send some money soon.



   

                   

No, I can't. I don't know when

I'll get to Baltimore.



   

                   

But not for a few weeks anyway.

But I'll talk to you soon.



   

                   

If you need anything, write to me

at the post office box in Philadelphia.



   

                   

I've got to go now, Mama.



   

                   

Goodbye. Goodbye, Mama.



   

                   

(Horn Honking)



   

                   

Oh, Forio! Oh, beauty!



   

                   

Well, she said she could ride a little.



   

                   

- Mark?

- Hm?



   

                   

Mark, listen. I'm a good fighter

if you need me.



   

                   

I mean, if you are in

some kind of trouble.



   

                   

I have absolutely no scruples.

I'd lie to the police or anything.



   

                   

What on earth are you talking about?



   

                   

I heard you and Marnie

this morning right out here.



   

                   

- Heard?

- OK, I eavesdropped.



   

                   

We should've made you go to college

or come out or something.



   

                   

- I can see that now.

- Don't patronise me, Mark.



   

                   

That Mary-Marnie, brown-haired blonde

you married so fast and sneaky



   

                   

and tried to hustle off

to the South Pacific!



   

                   

I didn't have to overhear stuff about

your not intending to go to jail too,



   

                   

to know that

you're in some sort of fix.



   

                   

- Please, Mark, will you let me help?

- Alright, you can help.



   

                   

You can help by being nice to Marnie.

She needs a friend.



   

                   

I always thought that a girl's

best friend was her mother.



   

                   

Poor old Mark.

Is her mother that ghastly?



   

                   

When the in-laws are so grim,

you don't invite them to the wedding.



   

                   

The usual excuse is poor health

or the strain of the trip, you know?



   

                   

But to claim they're dead,

now, come on!



   

                   

Alright, Lil, what is it you're up to?

Out with it.



   

                   

Me? I'm just offering you my services.



   

                   

Guerrilla fighter, perjurer,

intelligence agent.



   

                   

- Alright, intelligence agent.

- Baltimore.



   

                   

There's a mother in Baltimore.



   

                   

Marnie made

a phone call this morning.



   

                   

She said she hadn't been able to write

because she'd had the flu.



   

                   

She didn't know when she'd go to

Baltimore, but she'd send money.



   

                   

She said to go on writing to her

at the same post office box.



   

                   

I listened through the library door.



   

                   

She's having you on, Lil.

It's some sort of gag.



   

                   

You've been ratty. She's set out

to teach you some manners.



   

                   

- You're being had, Lil.

- You can say that again!



   

                   

But I don't want to say it again.

I don't want to have to say it again.



   

                   

Alright, Mark.



   

                   

You seem to be growing up, Lil.



   

                   

I expect what we should do

is find you some young man.



   

                   

- What's your type?

- I was waiting for you.



   

                   

I'm queer for liars.



   

                   

Really? Well, what sort

of liar do you fancy?



   

                   

We could run an ad. Do you prefer

an indoor liar or an outdoor liar?



   

                   

Playboy or Field and Stream?



   

                   

Anybody home? Hi! Where's Marnie?



   

                   

She and Dad are still out riding.

He is taking her over the hunt country.



   

                   

Big deal! She's going

to ride with the hunt.



   

                   

And Dad's throwing some kind of bash

to introduce her.



   

                   

- Has a long-distance call come in?

- No. Not that I know of.



   

                   

- (Phone Ringing)

- I'll get it.



   

                   

(Mark) Hello. Yes.



   

                   

Hold on, I want to take it

on another phone.



   

                   

I' ll take it upstairs.

Hang up as soon as I get it.



   

                   

Uh, Lil, you will hang up, won't you?



   

                   

OK, Lil.



   

                   

Hello? Yes I' ll talk to him now.



   

                   

Hello, Mr Boyle. Found anything

interesting down there?



   

                   

Hold on. Let me get a pencil.

OK, ready.



   

                   

Bernice Edgar.



   

                   

      Van Buren Street, Baltimore.



   

                   

Yeah, I got that. Go on.



   

                   

Wait a minute!



   

                   

You say she killed him?



   

                   

Well, when was that?



   

                   

That means the little girl must've been

about five, is that right?



   

                   

Well, what happened to her?

No, not the woman. The child.



   

                   

I want to know what happened

to the little girl, the daughter.



   

                   

No, no! Stay on there.

Get me anything else you can.



   

                   

Look, have photostats made

of all the court records.



   

                   

Send them to me immediately.

Yes, to my office. Registered.



   

                   

You're doing an

excellent job, Mr Boyle.



   

                   

(Lil) Did you have a good ride?



   

                   

Yeah. Ah, Mr Boyle,

get the photostats to me. Yes.



   

                   

And call me the minute

you get anything further on the child.



   

                   

Thank you.

I'll expect to hear from you.



   

                   

Goodbye.



   

                   

(Tapping)



   

                   

- (Tapping Continues)

- Mama? Oh, Mama, don't cry.



   

                   

Please don't cry, Mama.



   

                   

- (Tapping)

- No! No!



   

                   

Mama?



   

                   

Mama, don't cry.



   

                   

- (Tapping Continues)

- No!



   

                   

Mama? Mama?



   

                   

- (Knocking At Door)

- Mama?



   

                   

- Mama?

- Wake up, Marnie.



   

                   

- Mama?

- Marnie?



   

                   

Mama? Oh, don't hurt my mama.



   

                   

- Marnie.

- Please don't hurt my mama!



   

                   

- Marnie.

- (Gasps) Oh, don't, don't!



   

                   

- What's going on?

- She's having a nightmare.



   

                   

- No, Mama. Mama?

- Marnie, wake up, it's just a nightmare.



   

                   

- She's alright.

- I'm cold.



   

                   

That's supposed to be your department,

isn't it, ol' boy?



   

                   

Good night, all.



   

                   

- Let me get you a brandy.

- Uh-uh.



   

                   

Where did you get these things?



   

                   

I can get more anytime I want them.



   

                   

Yeah, of course you can. You can

also find, at your convenience,



   

                   

heights, ropes, ovens,

even plastic bags.



   

                   

The world's full of alternatives.



   

                   

I'd like to go back to sleep now.



   

                   

Why? Your sleep seems even less

agreeable than your waking hours.



   

                   

That, uh, dream.



   

                   

You know, you've had it before.



   

                   

Is it about something that

really happened to you?



   

                   

No, I... I don't know

what it means. Nothing.



   

                   

Well, it's about your mother.

She wants you to get up.



   

                   

Yes, but first there

are the three taps.



   

                   

And then she says, "Get up, Marnie.

You have to get up now!"



   

                   

But I don't want to. If I -



   

                   

If I get up, I'll be cold

and they'll hurt her!



   

                   

Who? Who'll hurt her?



   

                   

Th-Th- Them!



   

                   

I don't know! I don't know!



   

                   

But I hear the noises.

I'm cold and I hear the noises!



   

                   

What noises? What are they like?



   

                   

Who makes them?



   

                   

You Freud, me Jane?



   

                   

If you won't see an analyst,

why don't you try to help yourself?



   

                   

But that's why I'm in this trap,

from trying to help myself.



   

                   

Just leave me alone, Mark, please.



   

                   

If I give you some books,

will you read them?



   

                   

Your new homework?

Frigidity In Women?



   

                   

The Psychopathic Delinquent

and Criminal?



   

                   

- Have you read them?

- I don't need to read that muck



   

                   

to know that women are stupid and

feeble and that men are filthy pigs!



   

                   

In case you didn't recognise it,

that was a rejection.



   

                   

I want you to read them.

Start with The Undiscovered Self.



   

                   

Oh, for God's sake, Mark,

leave me alone! I'm tired!



   

                   

Why can't you just leave me alone?



   

                   

Because I think

you're sick, ol' dear.



   

                   

I'm sick?



   

                   

Well, take a look

at yourself, ol' dear.



   

                   

You're so hot to play

Mental Health Week, what about you?



   

                   

Talk about dream worlds. You've got

a pathological fix on a woman,



   

                   

who's not only an admitted criminal

but who screams if you come near her!



   

                   

So what about your dreams, Daddy dear?



   

                   

I never said I was perfect.



   

                   

That was quite a speech.

It encourages me to believe



   

                   

that you have leafed through

one or two books.



   

                   

Which one did you find

the most interesting?



   

                   

You're really dying

to play doctor, aren't you?



   

                   

OK, I'm a big movie fan.

I know the games.



   

                   

Come on. Let's play.



   

                   

Shall I start with dreams

or should we free-associate?



   

                   

Oh, Doctor, I'll bet you're

just dying to free-associate.



   

                   

Alright now, you give me a word

and I' ll give you an association.



   

                   

You know, like: needles, pins;

when a man marries, trouble begins.



   

                   

You ready?



   

                   

Well, come on! I thought you wanted

to play doctor, so let's play!



   

                   

- Water.

- Bath. Soap. Cleanse.



   

                   

Pure. Made pure for me.



   

                   

"And his tears

shall wash away thy sins



   

                   

and make thee over again."



   

                   

Baptists. Mother used to take me

to church. Twice on Sundays.



   

                   

There. I'm not holding back

at all, am I?



   

                   

You're bringing me out

marvellously, Doctor.



   

                   

You'll have me up on my poor paralysed

little legs by the next scene. Go on.



   

                   

- Air.

- Stare.



   

                   

And that's what you do.



   

                   

Stare and blare and say you care,

but you're unfair, you want a pair.



   

                   

- Sex.

- Masculine, Feminine,



   

                   

Adam and Eve, Jack and Jill.



   

                   

I'll slap your filthy face

if you come near me again, Jack!



   

                   

- Death.

- Me. Oh, listen, Mark -



   

                   

- Needles.

- Pins.



   

                   

- Black

- White



   

                   

- Red!

- White. White!



   

                   

It's alright, Marnie.

Darling, come here.



   

                   

I won't let anything bad

happen to you. You're alright.



   

                   

- You're alright.

- Oh, help me!



   

                   

Help me. Oh, God,

somebody help me!



   

                   

(Indistinct Chatter, Laughter)



   

                   

(Doorbell Rings)



   

                   

(Doorbell Rings)



   

                   

(Doorbell Rings)



   

                   

(Butler) What name, sir?



   

                   

- Strutt.

- (Butler) Mr and Mrs Strutt.



   

                   

Mr Strutt, Mrs Strutt? How do you do?



   

                   

I'm Lil Mainwaring,

Mark's sister-in-law.



   

                   

- So good of you to come all this way.

- So nice of you to ask us.



   

                   

Wait till tomorrow, Charlie.

Wait till you see her on a horse, eh?



   

                   

- I'm not a bit nervous, Mark.

- You have no reason to be.



   

                   

You're unquestionably

the best-looking woman here.



   

                   

The best-dressed. The most intelligent.

And you're with me.



   

                   

- I think everyone's here.

- Well, Lil's scorekeeper.



   

                   

She has the list, made the table

arrangements and everything.



   

                   

I'm afraid I wasn't much help,

but I'll do better next time.



   

                   

You're doing well enough.



   

                   

I suppose we should keep... circulating.



   

                   

Why?



   

                   

- Why?

- I don't know. I swear I don't know.



   

                   

He wasn't invited here.

He's never been invited here.



   

                   

- It's Lil!

- Lil?



   

                   

- She doesn't even know Strutt.

- It's Lil!



   

                   

Get me out of here please.



   

                   

It's too late. Here they come.



   

                   

Look, call his bluff. I'll back you up.



   

                   

- Oh, hello, Strutt. Good to see you.

- Good to see you.



   

                   

- We haven't met. I am Mark Rutland.

- How do you do?



   

                   

- And this is my wife.

- How do you do?



   

                   

Well, this is a surprise.

I hadn't heard about your marriage.



   

                   

You know, we all think

a great deal of your husband.



   

                   

We've been doing business with

the Rutlands... for a long time.



   

                   

- I believe we've met before.

- I don't think so.



   

                   

Think again... Mrs Rutland.



   

                   

Are you just recently married?



   

                   

Marnie and I have been married

for two months.



   

                   

But we've known each other

quite well for four years.



   

                   

Four years? Before Estelle...



   

                   

Yes, didn't you know?



   

                   

Darling, Betty seems

rather stranded over there.



   

                   

You' ll have to excuse us for a few

moments, Mrs Strutt.



   

                   

Oh, and Lil, would you see that



   

                   

Mr and Mrs Strutt's glasses

are kept brimming?



   

                   

That's a good girl.



   

                   

- I'm going to be sick.

- You're not going to be sick.



   

                   

You said we'd known each other

four years. Lil thought -



   

                   

I don't give one infinitesimal damn

what Lil thought or thinks.



   

                   

- Dinner is ready, sir.

- Good. Announce it.



   

                   

Dinner is served.



   

                   

Mr Strutt, my wife's taken a fancy

to you. Will you see her into dinner?



   

                   

Five minutes! I'm five minutes behind

you, and in those five minutes



   

                   

you've got yourself up like a cat

burglar and packed for a world cruise.



   

                   

I've got to get out of here,

and you've got to let me go.



   

                   

That man is going to send me to jail.

You know he is!



   

                   

What are you using

for guts this season?



   

                   

Don't you understand?



   

                   

He's coming back here tomorrow

and he's coming for my head!



   

                   

We just won't give it to him.



   

                   

Strutt may be throbbing away

with vengeful fantasies,



   

                   

but the fact is he's a businessman,

he's in the business of doing business.



   

                   

- So?

- So we try to do business.



   

                   

The Rutland account

is one of the biggest he's got.



   

                   

If he insists on acting like the swine

he is, then... and he'll lose others too.



   

                   

I'll see to it, but first I'll see to

it that he understands I'll see to it.



   

                   

You can keep him from prosecuting,

you can't keep him from talking.



   

                   

I don't care if he outtalks every

Southern senator on Capitol Hill.



   

                   

Well, I do. I care.



   

                   

Darling, didn't your mother

ever tell you about sticks and stones?



   

                   

Can't you understand there may be

other... things involved,



   

                   

other people that I don't

want to hear about me?



   

                   

Yes, I can understand,



   

                   

but since you're the well-known

orphan child, who's to care?



   

                   

The police, damn you.



   

                   

What can the police do if we can stop

Strutt from prosecuting?



   

                   

They can start investigating

other jobs. Other similar jobs.



   

                   

- Well, that's something else again.

- Yes, it is.



   

                   

How many? How many other jobs?



   

                   

Tell me the truth, damn it! You've

nothing to gain by lying to me now!



   

                   

- How many jobs have you pulled?

- Three.



   

                   

- Try again.

- Four. Five counting Strutt.



   

                   

Over how long a period?



   

                   

Five years,

and that's the truth, I swear!



   

                   

- Alright. How much? How much?

- Under $     .



   

                   

What towns?



   

                   

Buffalo, Detroit, Elizabeth, New Jersey

and New York.



   

                   

Well, in New York and Philadelphia,



   

                   

I' ll be poor old Mark Rutland who lost

his head over a pretty girl.



   

                   

In the others I'm just

an accessory after the fact



   

                   

and equally liable under the law.



   

                   

Well, then let me go! They can't

blame you because you didn't know!



   

                   

After you found out, I ran away.

Just let me go!



   

                   

If I let you run out now,

nothing could keep the lid on it.



   

                   

They've got your real name. They'll

work up a complete dossier on you.



   

                   

When they finally catch you,

and they will catch you,



   

                   

they'll throw the

New York City Library at you.



   

                   

But, suppose we don't lose our heads?



   

                   

All we've got to fight is Strutt's

big mouth. That gives us time.



   

                   

Sit down. Listen.

We can do one of two things.



   

                   

We can hire a lawyer

and a psychiatrist,



   

                   

and make an immediate voluntary

confession and an offer of restitution.



   

                   

That'll make the whole thing public.



   

                   

But the chances are very good

that you' ll get a suspended sentence.



   

                   

Now the alternative.



   

                   

We can go together and make private

calls on all the places you've robbed.



   

                   

You'll express deep sorrow

and repentance,



   

                   

sincere and vocal contrition.



   

                   

And while you sob, I show a check

for the amount stolen.



   

                   

Press it into their hands



   

                   

and ask as a special favour

to a distraught husband,



   

                   

to withdraw the charge.

But if one of them says,



   

                   

"Thanks, I'll take the money,

but I won't drop the charge, "



   

                   

then we've had it.



   

                   

After that it's an open court case,

and very probable sentence.



   

                   

On the other hand, with a bit of luck

we might pull it off.



   

                   

Think it over.



   

                   

It's late. You better get some sleep.

You gotta be up for the hunt.



   

                   

You don't expect me

to ride in the hunt!



   

                   

Certainly I expect you to ride.



   

                   

For one thing, I want you out of

the house when Strutt comes here.



   

                   

For another, I don't want

to give Lil the satisfaction



   

                   

of seeing you chicken.



   

                   

And, Marnie,

tonight the door stays open.



   

                   

(Dogs Barking)



   

                   

(Indistinct Chatter, Laughter)



   

                   

(Screams)



   

                   

(Whinnies)



   

                   

(Screams)



   

                   

Forio!



   

                   

(Whinnies)



   

                   

A gun! Give me a gun!

My horse is screaming!



   

                   

- Get me a gun!

- You want to shoot your horse?



   

                   

Hey, wait a minute!



   

                   

I can't give you a gun, my mister

isn't home. I don't know what he'd -



   

                   

You must be crazy!



   

                   

Mrs Turpin!



   

                   

Miss Mainwaring,

this woman comes tearing in here



   

                   

demandin' I give her a gun.



   

                   

Tell this fool to give me a gun.

Forio's hurt!



   

                   

Marnie, wait. I' ll call a vet.

There's nothing a vet can do.



   

                   

We don't have a phone

anyway, Miss Mainwaring.



   

                   

If the horse is hurt bad,

I could give her Jack's pistol.



   

                   

Hurry. Oh, hurry, please.

He's suffering.



   

                   

Go get the gun!



   

                   

I'll do it, Marnie. You wait here.



   

                   

Are you still in the mood for killing?



   

                   

Please, Marnie!



   

                   

Stay out of my way!



   

                   

Marnie, please!



   

                   

If you don't want me to do it,



   

                   

then let me go back

for one of the men.



   

                   

(Whinnies)



   

                   

There.



   

                   

There now.



   

                   

So you can see, Mr Strutt,

how very disadvantageous,



   

                   

any action on your part

would be for everyone.



   

                   

For me, certainly.



   

                   

For a sick girl... and for you.



   

                   

Yes, I'm sure that's the fashionable

attitude, Mr Rutland.



   

                   

But just wait until

you've been victimised.



   

                   

(Mark) Try to look at the situation

from a business point of view.



   

                   

(Strutt) Yes.



   

                   

(Mark) We've been business friends

for a number of years now.



   

                   

(Continues Indistinct)



   

                   

(Mark) I want you to apply

them all for my benefit.



   

                   

(Strutt) Hm.



   

                   

- (Phone Ringing)

- Oh, sorry.



   

                   

Hello.



   

                   

Yes, Lil, what is it?



   

                   

Yes, I understand.

I'm hanging up now.



   

                   

You' ll have to forgive me, I've had

a bit of trouble at the hunt.



   

                   

I'll talk to you again, possibly

tomorrow. I'm sorry to run out.



   

                   

(Mark)

I'll take you home, Marnie.



   

                   

It's alright, darling.



   

                   

You're just exhausted.

Now, don't panic.



   

                   

I've spoken to Strutt. I think

I'll be able to talk him around.



   

                   

I'll just put this away.



   

                   

Go on. You want the money.



   

                   

You wanted the money, or you wouldn't

have taken my keys, would you?



   

                   

You took the keys,

now take the money!



   

                   

I said take it!



   

                   

What's mine belongs to you.

It's yours!



   

                   

You're not stealing.



   

                   

You want the money, take it.

I said take it!



   

                   

Marnie, now we're going to

Baltimore to see your mother.



   

                   

- No!

- Yes.



   

                   

Come on.



   

                   

So, I knew you'd run away,

and you'd want money.



   

                   

It didn't take me a minute to find out

the office drawer key was gone.



   

                   

If you tell my mother about me,

I'll kill you.



   

                   

If you mean about the robberies,



   

                   

I've no intention

of telling her anything.



   

                   

It's your mother who's

going to do the talking.



   

                   

(Thunderclaps)



   

                   

Marnie, come on.



   

                   

- No!

- Come on.



   

                   

- It's alright, Marnie. You're inside.

- (Mama) What in the wide world -



   

                   

I'm sorry to crash in

on you like this, Mrs Edgar.



   

                   

I guess you know

how Marnie feels about storms.



   

                   

Marnie, stop acting like

such a ninny.



   

                   

Who are you, mister?

You're not Mr Pendleton.



   

                   

No, I'm not.

Who's Mr Pendleton?



   

                   

Then what have you got to do

with my Marnie?



   

                   

I'm Mark Rutland,

Marnie's husband, Mrs Edgar.



   

                   

Marnie hasn't been very well.



   

                   

I don't believe she's been well

since your accident.



   

                   

My what?



   

                   

I think you've always

called it "your accident."



   

                   

What do you think

you' re talking about?



   

                   

Comin' into my house like this,

talking about my accident!



   

                   

You're not married to Marnie.

I don't believe you.



   

                   

- Marnie?

- Your daughter needs help, Mrs Edgar.



   

                   

You've got to tell her the truth.



   

                   

She has no memory

of what happened that night.



   

                   

And she needs to remember everything!

You must help her.



   

                   

Mister, you must be plumb crazy.



   

                   

If you won't tell her, I will.

I know everything that happened.



   

                   

- I'll tell her the whole story.

- Oh, no you won't,



   

                   

because you don't know the whole story,

and nobody does but me!



   

                   

Oh. Well, since you're so very

knowledgeable, Mrs Edgar,



   

                   

do you also know that your daughter,



   

                   

your beautiful, young daughter,



   

                   

cannot stand to have a man

touch her? Any man?



   

                   

She doesn't know why, but you do.



   

                   

Don't you think you owe it to her to

help her to understand what happened



   

                   

- to make her like this?

- What matters what made her?



   

                   

She's lucky to feel like that!

Just plain lucky!



   

                   

That's very interesting, Mrs Edgar.



   

                   

But I've had

an investigator working here.



   

                   

I've read the transcript. Hm?



   

                   

The records of your trial for murder.



   

                   

In the records

it states quite plainly



   

                   

that you made your

living from the touch of men.



   

                   

It was one of your clients that

you killed that night.



   

                   

Oh, God!



   

                   

Was there also a storm

that night, Mrs Edgar?



   

                   

Is that why Marnie's

terrified of storms?



   

                   

Was there thunder

and lightning that night?



   

                   

Did the storms terrify

your little girl,



   

                   

in addition to everything

else that happened?



   

                   

Get out of my house.



   

                   

You get out!



   

                   

I don't need any filthy man

comin' in my house no more!



   

                   

Do you hear me? You get out!



   

                   

You get out of my house! (Screaming)



   

                   

You get out!



   

                   

You let my mama go!



   

                   

You hear? You let my mama go!



   

                   

- You're hurtin' my mama!

- Who am I, Marnie?



   

                   

- Why should I want to hurt your mama?

- You' re one of them.



   

                   

- One of them in the white suits.

- Shut up, Marnie!



   

                   

No! Remember, Marnie.

Tell us how it all was.



   

                   

The white suits! Remember?



   

                   

(Tapping)



   

                   

What does the tapping mean, Marnie?



   

                   

Why does it make you cry?



   

                   

It means... they want in.



   

                   

Them in their white suits.



   

                   

Mama comes and gets me out of bed.



   

                   

I don't like to get out of bed.



   

                   

Come on, Marnie.



   

                   

Get up. Alright?



   

                   

Good girl.



   

                   

That's my baby.



   

                   

There.



   

                   

There. Mm.



   

                   

- You go on back to sleep, sugarpop.

- Bernice.



   

                   

- (Thunderclap)

- (Sobbing)



   

                   

Now, you ain't afraid of a little bit

of lightning, are you? Huh?



   

                   

What happens next, Marnie?



   

                   

He - He come out... to me.



   

                   

Oh, I don't like him.

He - He smells funny.



   

                   

Your old captain's gonna be here

all through the night.



   

                   

There's no reason to cry.



   

                   

I want my mama!



   

                   

I don't want you! Let me go! Mama!



   

                   

(Sobbing)



   

                   

Get your damn hands off my kid!



   

                   

What are you trying to -

What are you -



   

                   

Mama?



   

                   

Make him go, Mama.



   

                   

I don't like him to kiss me.

Make him go, Mama!



   

                   

(Marnie Screams)



   

                   

Get your hands - Get your hands -



   

                   

There's nothing the matter

with my hands!



   

                   

(Mark) What is it, Marnie?

What's the matter?



   

                   

He hit my mama!



   

                   

No! No! What's the matter with you?

You crazy or drunk?



   

                   

Now, don't go hittin' me.

You're gonna get hit yourself.



   

                   

- (Screams)

- Oh, my leg!



   

                   

- Mama?

- Is your mother hurt?



   

                   

- How? How is she hurt?

- He fell on her.



   

                   

Oh, she's so hurt! Oh, Mama.



   

                   

Marnie! Marnie, help me!



   

                   

I got to help my mama!



   

                   

(Sobbing)



   

                   

Marnie?



   

                   

I hit him!



   

                   

I hit him with a stick. I - I hurt him!



   

                   

There. There now.



   

                   

- (Screams, Sobs)

- (Screams)



   

                   

You're alright now, darling.

You're alright.



   

                   

It's all over.



   

                   

You're alright.



   

                   

I thought when she lost

her memory of that night,



   

                   

it was a sign of God's forgiveness.



   

                   

I thought I was being

given another chance



   

                   

to change everything,



   

                   

to make it all up to her.



   

                   

I'm sorry, Mrs Edgar.



   

                   

Truly sorry.



   

                   

Your mother told the police that she'd

killed the sailor in self-defense.



   

                   

They could see how bad hurt I was.

They believed me.



   

                   

And I never told anyone the truth.



   

                   

Never.



   

                   

Not even when they tried to take you

away from me, Marnie.



   

                   

Not even then.



   

                   

You must've loved me, Mama.

You must've loved me!



   

                   

You're the only thing in

this world I ever did love.



   

                   

It - it was just that

I was so young, Marnie.



   

                   

I never had anything of my own.



   

                   

And after the accident,

when I was in the hospital,



   

                   

they tried to make me

let you be adopted.



   

                   

But I wouldn't.



   

                   

I wanted you.



   

                   

And I promised God right then,



   

                   

if he'd let me keep you,

and you not remember,



   

                   

I'd bring you up different from me.



   

                   

Decent.



   

                   

Decent?



   

                   

Well, you surely realised

your ambition.



   

                   

I certainly am decent.



   

                   

Of course I'm a cheat,

and a liar and a thief,



   

                   

but I am decent.



   

                   

Marnie, it's time to have a

little compassion for yourself.



   

                   

When a child, a child of any age,

Marnie, can't get love,



   

                   

it takes what it can get,

any way it can get it.



   

                   

It's not so hard to understand.



   

                   

Get up, Marnie, you're aching my leg.



   

                   

Wha - What am I going to do?



   

                   

What's going to happen?



   

                   

What do you want to happen?



   

                   

I guess I... I want it all cleared up.



   

                   

Will I go to jail?



   

                   

Not after what

I have to tell them.



   

                   

Ah, Mrs Edgar, I'll bring Marnie back.

She's very tired now.



   

                   

Goodbye, Mama.



   

                   

Goodbye, sugarpop.



   

                   

I don't want to go to jail.

I'd rather stay with you.



   

                   

Had you, love?









  

 
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