Hartwell, Sr.:
[grumpily]
Take a letter to Mrs. Hartwell. 'Madam: Your son is heading for another jam with one of my models. Suggest getting the baboon to Newport, if your bridge and golf can spare you. I can't manage a business and play wet-nurse to an idiot.' That's all.
[thinking]
Hartwell, Sr.:
Add a postscript. 'I will not send a check to your empty-headed daughter.' Read that back.
Private secretary:
[reading from pad]
'Dear wife: I fear Bob is getting involved with a pretty girl at the store. Knowing your tact and diplomacy, I suggest you invent some excuse that will take him to Newport with you. Lovingly, John. Postscript: Enclosed, find check for Barbara.' Is that all?
Hartwell, Sr.:
That's all!
Riportata da il
05/03/2025 alle ore 07:46
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