분야
hwpThis is a diary...
of...
hate.
And perhaps I wouldnt
be writing it...
if some devil hadnt made me
stop him that night...
in the rain.
You want to drown, Henry?
I wanted a bit of air.
How nice to see you, Bendrix.
How long has it been?
A year?
June, .
As long as that?
Hows Sarah?
Oh, shes out and about
somewhere.
She at the cinema?
No, she never goes.
Oh, good night, Henry.
You should go home
before you catch your death.
Is something wrong?
Let me take you home, Henry.
Or perhaps I wouldnt
be writing this...
if I had known then
who I hated.
Was it Henry?
Was it his wife Sarah?
Or was it some other
who was yet to be revealed to me?
Sarah?
See? Shes out still.
Come upstairs.
Come in.
Let me get you a drink.
Whiskey, thank you.
Whiskey.
So whats troubling you,
Henry?
Sarah.
Shes out for a walk now,
Bendrix.
A walk.
Well, she always was
a great walker.
Jealousys a terrible thing.
Well, you know you
can trust me, Henry.
You know, I went so far...
as to get the name
of a private detective.
You think shes seeing someone?
- Of course you think me a fool.
- No, Henry.
I dont think youre a fool.
- You mean you think its possible?
- Of course.
Sarahs human.
Cant sleep.
Keep picking up...
this wretched card.
Burn it.
- I wish I could.
- Then go see whats-his-name, Savage?
And sit where all
the jealous husbands sit?
Do you think they have
a waiting room, Bendrix...
where we see each others faces
as we pass through?
Why not let me go, Henry?
- You?
- Yes.
I could pretend
to be a jealous lover.
Jealous lovers are less ridiculous
than jealous husbands.
Theyre supported
by the weight of literature.
Tragic, never comic.
Think of Troilus.
Well, I shant lose my amour propre
when I interview Mr. Savage.
This is ridiculous.
One cant spy on ones wife
through a friend...
and have the friend
pretend to be her lover.
- What else are friends for?
- Youre a good chap, Bendrix.
All I needed was to talk,
clear my head.
The name was Savage,
and the address was Vigo Passage.
Forget what Ive told you.
Doesnt make sense. Ill see a doctor.
That was the door.
Sarahs come in.
Its the maid.
Shes been to the pictures.
No, it was Sarahs step.
Sarah, darling.
Henry.
- You... Is that you?
- Been out for a walk?
- Yes.
- Its a filthy night.
Youre wet through, Sarah.
One day youll catch your death of cold.
Good night.
Their marriage was conventional...
like their well-appointed house.
And I liked them both
the first night we met...
drinking bad South African sherry
because of the war in Spain.
Good evening, sir.
- May I take your hat?
- Thank you.
Mr. Miles is upstairs.
Sherry, sir?
Thank you.
She seemed restless.
In the summer of ...
the whole of London was restless
in the face of the coming storm.
How nice of you to come.
Sarah, this is our neighbor,
the novelist chap.
What on earth
is a novelist doing here?
- Research.
- On what?
On your husband.
Im trying to write a character
who works for the Ministry of Pensions.
I need to find out his habits,
what he drinks before bedtime.
- Cocoa.
- And when.
: isnt it, Sarah?
Unless were entertaining.
Would you be so kind
as to excuse your character?
- The ministry needs him.
- Unfortunately it does.
- So tell me.
- What?
- His secrets.
- Henrys a good man.
- Good men have no secrets.
- I was afraid youd say that.
You see, goodness
has so little fictional value.
What does have fictional value?
- A minister of Home Security.
- Are you saying my husband is fiction?
Im saying he could be,
in the right hands.
Oh, dear. This is alarming.
Can we get away from the service?
- You mean change the subject?
- I meant fresh air actually.
Of course.
- So how long have you been married?
- Is your character married?
Yes, hes been married happily
for ten years.
Henrys the perfect model then.
Weve been married ten years.
You know that...
happiness is even harder to write
than goodness.
Henry prefers habit to happiness.
- Ill give them to you to sign.
- We were discussing the house, darling.
Let me fill that for you.
- Its a lovely house.
- My wife found it.
And your wife is charming.
- Shes a great help to me.
- Yes, Im sure.
Theyve made a picture
of one of your books, havent they?
Yes, its playing at the Rialto.
- Ill take you both.
- Far too busy for pictures, Im afraid.
Should I make a note of that?
Make sure your character
never gets home before : .
- Come out, Henry, for once?
- You know I cant, darling.
But you go.
Take her, Bendrix.
- Sarah, one has to insist.
- Henry.
- Where are you going?
- To see wonder.
- But you promised.
- Murderers promises keep.
- Its not what I wrote, you know.
- You cant keep saying that.
- Its true.
- I know.
There was one scene you did write.
Describe it.
Where he offered her onions
with her meal.
She refused because her husband
didnt like the smell.
He got angry.
And why did he get angry?
He didnt want to think of her
going home to him.
Does Henry like onions?
No.
Im in love, you know.
Me too.
Susan?
Come upstairs.
Sarah?
One minute, dear.
What if he heard?
He wou
