:42:00
Shipping out like Sindbad with his loot.
:42:03
Here it is.
:42:05
I've been poking around
for this stuff for about two years.
:42:07
I keep expecting it to vanish
like the figments of a dream.
:42:11
It's safe now, that is, if I can get by
the harpies at San Francisco.
:42:16
- The harpies?
- Yes, ma'am.
:42:18
Although some people call them by other names.
:42:23
- Can I help you button that?
- Thank you.
:42:26
Remember how Ulysses
had to stuff cotton in his ears...
:42:28
...to keep from hearing the song of the Siren?
:42:30
They're going to have to sing awfully loud for me.
:42:33
What does a harpy look like?
:42:34
They've got snakes in their hair and
cats' eyes and no hearts at all.
:42:38
You can always tell them easy.
:42:42
This is more fun than digging gold.
:42:44
If you weren't a lady from Gramercy Park
and I weren't a poetical half-wit...
:42:48
...full of the most idiotic respect
for beauty and grace and gentility, I'd...
:42:52
- You'd what, Mr. Carmichael?
- I'd act a lot different than I'd been acting.
:42:56
You've been very charming.
:42:58
That's the trouble with being
a poet at heart.
:43:00
You always have to be charming
at the wrong time.
:43:02
You don't mind this loose talk I hope, ma'am?
:43:06
There.
:43:08
I guess you're buttoned now and forever.
:43:10
It seems to have stopped raining.
:43:12
I think we'd better go.
:43:16
I had an idea we were never
going to leave here, but...
:43:19
...I guess that's impractical.
:43:21
I'm afraid it is.
:43:24
How am I going to write to you
if I don't know where you live?
:43:27
I write awfully well, something like
Shelley when I'm in the mood.
:43:30
- I'll read you something he wrote.
- You haven't time, Mr. Carmichael.
:43:34
This is my road, and that's yours, to the boat...
:43:38
...and the lamb chops in wine sauce.
:43:40
Lamb kidneys, ma'am.
:43:43
Only they don't seem so important now.
:43:45
- Can't I see you home?
- You'll miss the boat.
:43:49
Aren't I ever going to see you again?
:43:51
I'd like to remember it just like this.
:43:54
The rain, the fog...
:43:56
...and a poet from Gramercy Park
with his bags of gold.
:43:59
Let's leave it that way.