 Lux presents Hollywood. The Lux Radio Theatre brings you Loretta Young and Joseph Cotton in love letters. Ladies and gentlemen, your producer, Mr. William Keely. Greetings from Hollywood, ladies and gentlemen. Our play tonight is the work of a producer with whom I was closely associated in the past and whose contributions to the screen I have always admired, Mr. Hal Wallace, whose pictures have won 27 awards for excellence, who is the only holder of two of the coveted Irving Thurl Thalberg Awards, and who has more than maintained that high standard into night screen hit released by Paramount Love Letters. In our cast are Joseph Cotton playing his original screen role, co-starred with Loretta Young in her 18th appearance on this stage, a wrecker that has contributed much to your enjoyment. Love Letters gives a fresh, unusual treatment to an almost classic theme in the theatre, the story of one man who pleads another's love and finds himself deeply involved in romance with a girl in question. Love Letters rather makes me think of Lux Letters, those hundreds of letters we receive each week expressing thanks for the product that make these Monday night productions possible. Writes one friend of this theatre from Chicago, I'm a hosier emender and I know from long experience how to care for stockings. I always advise my customers to wash their nylons in Lux Flakes after every wearing. Yes, stockings do wear longer and look better thanks to your wonderful product, Lux Flakes. In return for that kind letter, all our thanks to Mrs. Rita Lynch. It's curtain time and here's the opening act of Love Letters, starring Loretta Young as Singleton and Joseph Cotton as Alan. London, a few weeks after the end of the war. In Miss Dilly Carson's comfortable flat, a party's been going on since 8 o'clock. It's a little after midnight now and standing in front of a tall window gazing into the fog-draped city, one of the guests is in a talkative and philosophical mood. Yes, my friends, we commit unspeakable crimes. We go to war, blast our cities, blast all scents out of our brains, and yet always there before our eyes is that vision of beauty. A beauty we've never seen but which makes everything we do seem unbearable. A few months ago, behind the front in Italy, I... Hey, what's happened? Where is everybody? They've all gone, Alan. Sneaked out behind my back? Literally, here. Here's some nice black coffee. Oh, thanks. You mean I've been standing here talking to myself? I'm crushed. You're also a little under the weather. I've been drinking. Yes. That's bad. Dilly, what have I been talking about? A girl, mostly. I'm ashamed. Alan, who is Victoria? I've been talking about Victoria. Who is she? I don't know. I've never seen her, but I've thought about her considerably. I wrote letters to Victoria. Love letters. That doesn't make much sense. I wrote them for a fellow I knew in the army. He thought he was in love with her, I guess. Who? His name was Roger Morland. He married her. I was still in Italy when I learned that Morland had died. I never did find out just what happened. You wrote letters to Victoria for a man called Roger Morland. I started doing it as a joke. I don't think it was very funny. I think it was tragic. But Roger, Roger was a man of action. He hated writing letters. The girl never suspected. She married him, didn't she? Why are you so interested? You've put me on the track of something. Why? Never mind. You always this mysterious? I wish very much I'd met you before tonight. Then remember tonight. When you're down at this new place of yours in Belpmarsh, remember how mysterious I was. You'd think a murder had been committed. There has. An old murder. What are you... And don't ask questions. You talk about a murder and say don't ask questions. Come on, I'll see you to the station. Alan, why are you going to Belpmarsh? Well, because an old aunt of mine died and left it to me. Her home, her goods, and a man named Mack who looks after things. During your discourse you mentioned that Victoria lived in Essex too. Victoria Remington, Meadow Farm, Longreach, Essex. What kind of a man was this Roger Morland? He's dead, Deleon. I'm trying to forget that I made a girl fall in love with him. You're conscience-stricken. Deeply. Well, after you've been at Belpmarsh, you'll be able to cope with things much better. How do you know? Because I know things about you. Things that may happen to you that you don't know. Nice things, I trust. Things that'll put a little kick in their life. Come along, you've a train to catch. Well, Mr. Alan, so you like the house, do you? You know, it's 15 years since you've been here. No, I was so sure it would be changed, Mack. I never found good things to be anything like the way we remember them. Your aunt wanted it kept just like she had it. She thought you'd appreciate the loneliness and quiet and this coming to rest. I like that, Mack. Coming to rest. Which reminds me that I could use about eight hours of it right now. What time, breakfast, sir? Not too early. I want to take a walk before breakfast. Oh, this is for you, Mr. Alan, this envelope. What is it? Ten golden sovereigns. Your aunt left them for the girl you chose for yourself. For the girl I choose. You haven't chosen? No, I haven't chosen. Good night, Mr. Alan. Good night, Mack. Did you have a good walk, sir? I went down the road as far as the turn that goes to Longreach. Have you been to Longreach lately, Mack? Oh, no, not since before the war, son. Do you happen to know anyone there named Remington? Remington? No, I can't recall. Wait, though. Remington. Strange. Something I heard. What? It was not good. What? I don't know. I'm going to Longreach this afternoon. I want to visit the widow of a man I knew. Can you hire a trapped village? I think so, sir. Mack, if something bothers you for a long time and you know it can't possibly be what you're thinking, isn't it better to find out about it and be disappointed once and for all? Why are you so sure you'll be disappointed? I want to be. I want to get rid of it and forget it. Why? She's free. She's a widow now, you said. Mack, you're entirely too rude. I hope I'm going to continue to like you. Oh, you will, Mr. Allen. I'm a faint old man. You'll wonder how you ever got along without me. Where's breakfast? I'm starved. This is meadow farm, Mr. Quinton. That'll be the cottage, all right. The first person who's asked for meadow farm in years before you said it's well known. Everybody knows it, but knowing a place it's not the same as visiting a place. Wait for me here, I won't be long. You want something? Oh, I didn't see you come up. What business? I want to know if Victoria Moreland still lives here. She's gone away. Could you tell me where? London, maybe, I don't know. Somewhere in London. I was a friend of her husband. Him? He's dead. Yes. There's nothing you can tell me about Mrs. Moreland. Nothing. Who's in the house? I'm Duke. I look after the farm. Sorry, I trouble you. It's all right. It's all right. When you're at Belk Marsh, remember particularly how mysterious I was. An old murder. I know about things. Things that may happen to you that you don't know. Mr. Quinton. Is something wrong, Mr. Quinton? Oh, no, driver. Nothing's wrong. You can take me back now. Yes, sir. No, wait. I've changed my mind. Take me to the railroad station instead. Yes? Oh, uh, is Miss Dilly Carson at home? Oh, no, but she'll be back in a minute. Come in, Alan. You know me? We've met. Oh, yes. Well, who are you? I'm trying things. Won't even give me a hint. Sit down. Thank you. It'll be funny to watch you trying to remember. Funny, but not very polite. Well, should we be polite or honest? Whichever you prefer me to be. Oh, I don't like people to try to be what I want them to be. What should they do then? Whatever they like. Whether anyone approves or not. Well, I couldn't possibly say what I'd like to right now. What? That you're, well, very pretty. Oh, please say it. I'd like to hear it. You're very pretty, and I'm embarrassed. And you don't remember seeing me before? Only a feeling that I have. Where? Now, this sounds absurd. Uh, overseas at the front. Oh, no, I've never been at the front. You knew my name. I've thought of you very often. Why should you admit that? Well, why not? I wanted to tell you that I've thought of you, and you'd be glad to hear it. What made you think about me? Do you remember being in this flat before? Only slightly, uh, at a party. Uh-huh. Billy told me. She told me you talked about me. About you? Yes. What'd I say? She wouldn't tell. Oh, you're upset, aren't you? Yes. Why? I've just come from the library. I found some very disturbing information in the newspaper file. Oh. Can I help you? Well, maybe you can. Do you know Victoria Morland? Victoria Morland? Uh-huh. No. No, I've never heard of her. I'm sure she's a friend of Dilly's. Oh, no, I know all Dilly's friends. Well, it doesn't matter, I suppose. Oh, it does matter. You're in love with her. What makes you say that? The way you pronounce her name. The way you look. You know what's strange? You knew it before I did. I never realized it until I heard you say it. You've been in love with her without knowing it? For a long time. And you've lost her? Oh, I'd like to help you find me. Look, just who are you? Where did I meet you? Right here in this room at the party the other night. I'm Singleton. Oh, the girl who kept playing the Debussy record of commerce. I wanted to talk to you, but Dilly kept me away. Why? I don't know. Well, so you're Miss Singleton. No, not Miss Singleton. Just Singleton. What's your first name? I haven't been here. Oh, now, wait a minute. Oh, hello, Dilly. Look, I'm here. So I see you. Good evening. I'm sorry. A bit of a shock seeing you. I didn't think you'd be back so soon. I want to talk to you, Dilly. I've been going through some old newspaper files at the library. We've had a fine time, Dilly. Alan likes me. Yes. Dilly, who's Victorian, Marlon? Do you know her? No, I don't, Singleton. Why? Well, Alan thought you knew her. Well, I don't. We must try to help him find her. Why? I don't want Alan to be unhappy. Oh, here I am with a basketful of groceries and the thing I wanted most I forgot. Why still? Darling, run down to the store before it closes. Of course. A large package of Pearson's Oats. We haven't a thing for breakfast. Yes, Pearson's Oats. Oh, and don't let Alan get away before I come back now. So you forgot Pearson's Oats? Yes. No, you didn't, Dilly. No, I didn't. But I had to get her out of here. You don't have to explain. I came here only to ask you one question and you know the answer. Where is Victoria Moorland? Victoria Moorland just walked out of that door. Singleton? Yes. I don't believe it. The name meant nothing to her and she wasn't putting on an act. What were you doing at the library? Looking for an account of a murder. Did you find him? Yes. You can't make me believe that Singleton is a murderess. Not Singleton. Victoria Moorland. Alan, how much do you know about Victoria's past? Nothing. Well, she was a foundling. Brought up in an orphanage in Canada. They gave her a name there, Victoria Singleton. When she was 12, Beatrice Remington brought her to England. Who's Beatrice Remington? A lonely old maid who owns Meadow Farm. She adopted Singleton, brought her up as a kind of goddess, guarded her ferociously. She was determined that no one would ever hurt Singleton in any way. How did you come to know her? I came from Longreach, too. I was Singleton's only friend. Did you know Roger Moorland? We met him together at an office's dance. When he went away, he started writing her. She fell in love. She fell in love with his letters. Your letters, Alan. I know. Beatrice didn't trust Roger. But nothing would stop Singleton. She married him three days after his return. I don't know what happened, only that Singleton changed. She grew silent, withdrawn in a strange sort of way. And then one night, I was home on a visit. Jock brushed in Beatrice Remington's farmer. He begged me to come. When I entered the cottage, Roger was lying on the floor, dead. There was a large knife beside him. Singleton was sitting by the fireplace. She was wearing a white dress. There were dark red stains all over it. A few weeks later, she stood trial for the murder of her husband. I was called as a witness. And now then, Miss Carson, upon seeing the body of Roger Moorland, exactly what did you do? I spoke to Victoria. She didn't answer me. She didn't even recognize me. She just kept staring at the fireplace. In front of the grate was a fragment of a letter. Did you pick it up? Yes. It said, I think of you, my dearest, as a distant promise of beauty untouched by the world. Was the letter signed? I couldn't tell. It was burned. Was Beatrice Remington present at the time? Yes. She was standing in the doorway leading out of the room. She appeared very ill. She had nothing to say? No, all she said was, he struck her. Nothing more. If it pleases the court, the defense would like to call Dr. Albert Peters to the stand. Dr. Albert Peters. Dr. Peters, on the night of Mr. Moorland's death, you attended Beatrice Remington? I did. I found Miss Remington in a comatose condition. She had suffered a stroke of apoplexy, doubtlessly induced by shock. She was unable to speak or to move. The subviating the possibility for even writing down what she might have witnessed? That is correct. Miss Remington is still in a hospital, still unable to speak or use her hands to write. Dr. Adams and Dr. Wiley have concurred in the findings of my signed statement to this effect. That is all, Dr. Peters. If it pleases the court, I should like to recall Mrs. Roger Moorland to the stand. Mrs. Roger Moorland, please. Mrs. Moorland, do you remember your husband striking you? Who was my husband? Oh, please, Mrs. Moorland, please try to think. You do realize you're on trial for the murder of your husband? Yes, I understand that. But to tell the truth, I simply do not remember that I had a husband. Don't you want to remember? No. I don't know what happened that night. As long as I don't know, it never happened. Not really, not to me. Of course, you can't consider that. You must do what you must. You know it happened. I don't. Try to think of Roger Moorland before you married him, of the time when you loved him. I never loved him. How do you know that if you don't remember? Because I remember the man I loved. Who was it? Well, it seems a very long time ago. He wrote to me. I remember his letters. I love that man. I still love him. So you see, I... I couldn't have loved Roger Moorland, the man I killed. Far and guilty of manslaughter. The fact that Roger had struck her was the mitigating circumstance. Several doctors examined her. She was perfectly sane. She'd lost her memory, but not her mind. Amnesia victims are not insane, you know. She was sentenced to a year in prison. They sent her to jail. Oh, I don't believe she suffered. I don't believe she knew where she was. She must have known. If she did, she's forgotten it now. Forgotten everything? Everything. Even her own name. The only thing she remembers is her childhood and the orphanage and the name they gave her there. Singled. She remembers you? Not because I visited her regularly. What about Beatrice Remington? Singleton has no recollection of her. Where is Beatrice now? Here in London at a nursing home. She's getting better. She can speak again. Will Singleton ever recover? What did the doctors say? They've warned me never to speak to her about her past. If anyone told her about her past now, the shock could be so terrible, she might easily lose her mind. Don't you see why I was so terrified just now when I found you questioning her about Victoria Moorland? Billy, that party here the other night. Why was I invited? Roger had spoken about you. Then when the war was over and you came home, well, I wanted someone to help me, someone I could trust. Now, I'm not so sure I did right. Anyway, that's the whole story. Except you haven't told the worst of it. You know who the real criminal in the story is, don't you? I didn't until you started talking the night of the party. I'm the guilty one. I made her a murderer. You're the man she loved. You're the man she thought she married, but she doesn't know it and you can never tell her. Does she remember my letters? No, I don't know. If she does, she's still in love with me. If she finds that out, she'll despise me. And you? What do you feel for her? Popeless, isn't it? Yes. But you couldn't be happy with a ghost and you won't be able to face the day when she ceases to be a ghost. Billy, I'd better leave now while she's still out. What will you tell her when she comes back? I'll think of something. Tell her I left. Because I'm in love with Victoria Morland. Yes? Alan, this is Dilly. Hello, Dilly. Alan Singleton has disappeared. Disappeared. She went out this morning without saying a word and she hasn't come back. Did she at your house by any chance? Mac and I've been out all morning, but no, of course she isn't here. Alan. Look, I'll come right into London. There's a train in about an hour. Oh, I'll wait here, Alan. Singleton. Well, Alan, aren't you glad to see me? In just a moment, we'll return with act two of Love Letters, starring Joseph Cotton and Loretta Young. Here's Mr. Keely at the microphone. We continue with act two of Love Letters, starring Joseph Cotton as Alan and Loretta Young as Singleton. Following Dilly Carson's frantic phone call that Singleton has disappeared, Alan hangs up the receiver only to find that Singleton is standing in his doorway, quite amused over his obvious concern. Aren't you going to say hello or something? Singleton, how long have you been here? Oh, I think maybe an hour. The door was open. I heard the phone ringing, but I was afraid it was Dilly, so I didn't answer it. Now, Singleton. Please, please, please, Alan, don't call her yet. Hello, Singleton. Hello, Alan. Why did you come here? Oh, I was afraid you decided never to see me again. Why would I decide that? Then it is all right for me to be here and you shouldn't get so embarrassed and shy. Singleton, one just doesn't do these things. Oh, I know. I know it looks as if I'm running after you, but I know you're in love with someone else. Victoria Moore, and you told me that. So you can't suspect me of... What? Of anything personal. Oh, you just came here impersonally. I see. Not exactly. I wanted to see you. Now, look, Singleton. Dilly's worried sick. I'll have to call her. You sit down and behave yourself while I telephone. I told Dilly we'd be on it. Alan, please. All right. There's a train in two hours. You're annoyed with me? Singleton. No? No. Good. How did you get my address? Oh, you mentioned it. Dilly's party. Well, you have a good memory. You... It's no secret, Alan. I know I have no real memory. Dilly told you about it? Yes. Is that why you're afraid of me? I'm not. Oh, yes, you are, and you mustn't be. Since I have no past, I have no future only the moment. Only now. So you see, Alan, we can enjoy it without any obligations or regrets. Singleton, ever since I came back from the war, I wanted to be alone. I've been miserable with other people. Oh. You're the first one with whom I feel at peace. Oh, that's because you're all broken up inside, almost the same as I am. You've been through the war and you can't bear to look back. I've forgotten and you don't want to remember. That's the only difference between us. But you're so, so calm about everything. I'll tell you my secret. What? Well, just two words. Be yourself. Oh, yes. You see, you're afraid of it, and so is everybody else. But I have no choice. Well, I can't be anything but myself. What are you laughing at? I thought you needed protection. Oh, we can be good friends, can't we, Alan? You're in love with Victoria Moreland and I... Well, tell me about Victoria. I'd rather not. You love her very much? You mustn't think of her. Well, someday you'll be happy with her. But I don't mind. Now you're happy with me, aren't you? Alan, you'll come to London once in a while to see her. Of course I will. But don't write. Just come. It frightens me to get letters. Why? I don't know. Maybe it's because I can't write. I can read, but I've forgotten how to make handwritten letters. Dilly wanted to teach me once, but I didn't want to learn again. I'm afraid of her. And I promise never to write you. Good. Why are you looking at me like that? Oh, I'm sorry. Well, aren't you going to show me your house? Can't we even walk around your grounds? I'll be very happy to show them to you, Singleton. Oh, Mac, will you call the village? We'll be needing transportation to the station. Singleton, come on. We don't have a car, you know. But I... I miss... Come again. Oh, I will. I will. Don't you give her ideas, Mac. Oh, Alan, I think it's wonderful to ride to the station in a car. Oh, what's the matter? Oh, it's my shoe. I've broken my heel. All right, then I'll carry you. Oh, Alan! We're going to get that train. This is wonderful. I like being carried. And when we get to London, you can carry me all the way to Dilly's. That's what I'd like second best. All right, driver, we're in. What's first best, Alan? Not to go to London at all. But most definitely, we are going. Singleton, look at me. Yes, Alan. Thank you for kissing me. Alan, you know another difference between us? You're unhappy because that can never happen again. And I'm happy because it happened once. No, no. Oh, isn't she wonderful? She just knows it would be useless to be angry with you. Oh. Well, if I'm going to get back Belmarsh tonight. Good night, Alan. Night Singleton. And don't forget, you're coming to see me soon. Very soon, I hope. Dilly, I'm not going back tonight. I'm staying in London. Why? I want you to arrange for me to see Beatrice Remington. What are you thinking about? Please, Dilly, as soon as possible. Tell her all about me, except about the letters. I'll be at the Hotel Berkshire. You can call me there any time tomorrow. That's your visitor by the window, Miss Remington. You can have a nice chat here in the Zellarium. That will be all, Nurse. I can wheel myself over. Well, young man? Well, how do you do? I'm Beatrice Remington. I'm Alan Quinton. I was a friend of Roger Moreland. I'm not concerned with the past. Please get to the point. Why did you wish to see me? I want to marry Singleton. I expect you to realize what you're saying. Fully. The girl you call Singleton is not well. She's not herself. She may never be. May I ask how you're prepared to face this? We love each other. If we try to escape it, it'll be worse for both of us. The prospect of a lifetime with a woman in that condition is not an easy one, is it? But what if she were to regain her health? Mightn't that also be worse for you? Much worse. You're proposing to marry two different women at once. Singleton and Victoria Moreland. Only one of them can give you her consent. Would Singleton's consent be binding on Victoria? If then, when Victoria comes back to life, Singleton will cease to exist? How will Victoria look at you? What will her feeling be taught you? I have every reason to believe that she'll hate me. It's just part of the chance I must take. Has Singleton consented to marry? I thought I should speak to you first. Of course you don't know me, but I... I know a great deal about you. I made it my business to inquire. Then your answer? I don't want to interfere again. I did once. I live to regret it. Have you obtained the permission of the church? Would such a marriage be solemnized? The bishop wants to see Singleton before he gives a decision. Do you know that I love my ward very much? Yes. I wanted her to be happy. Then, for her sake, won't you tell me what happened that night? Have you read the accounts of the trial? Yes. Then that's all you have to know. I'll abide by the decision of the bishop. If you get his permission, you have my consent. Good day, Mr. Quinton. I'll pour you some more tea, Singleton. Thank you, Bishop. You don't know how much I'm enjoying this talk with you. I was very kind of you to invite Alan and me. I've always wanted to see a bishop. Well, it's true. Tell me, are you quite content to be called Singleton? Don't you sometimes wish for a Christian name? Oh, no, I don't mind, really. Lots of people in the Bible get along with one name. And some others, not so well with two. You read your Bible? Yes, I do. I particularly like one sentence. What shall it profit a man if he shall gain the whole world and lose his own soul? I always feel as if it were written for me. Why? Well, because, as you must know, I've lost the whole world and gained my own soul. You see, now I can look at the whole world through my own eyes as if it were a new world, seeing for the first time, and I love it. I love everything. Especially the countryside. I've never lived in a country that's so full of surprises. Like, well, like your garden out there must be. Would you like to see my garden? Oh, very much. Mary, Mary, this is your department. She will show you through, my dear. Oh, thank you. Aren't you coming, Alan? No, no, no, I'll wait here. Have you come to a decision? Your mind is clear and her soul's innocent. Both of you have a great deal of courage. I feel safe and interesting singleton to your care. I shall permit your man. The bishop was very nice, wasn't he, Alan? Yes, singleton. Hadn't we better get a cab? Oh, no, no, don't let's hurry. Couldn't we just sit here in the park? You like? Alan, I'm sorry about the difficulties. What difficulties? Well, about me, the ones you had to discuss with the bishop. How do you know what I discussed with the bishop? I like to think of you as being so kind. You went around and consulted people to make sure they'd permit it before you spoke to me. But, Alan, what about Victoria Moreland? Singleton, that's gone and finished. My past is as dead as yours. We're both making a new beginning. I want you to trust me. I trust you, Alan. I know you love me, but you can't really know it until you find her again. If you don't, you'll never be sure. I am, I am sure. Singleton, if you love me, you'll forget that name and never think of it again. Oh, I love you. Enough to marry me. Alan? What's the matter? I don't know. I knew what you were going to say, and yet when I heard you say it, when I heard you say, enough to marry me, something happened. It frightened me. I don't know why. Something out of your past. Well, Alan, there is something in my past. I don't know what it is, but it's something horrible. Alan, if I remember it someday, it might hurt you, and I couldn't bear to hurt you. Oh, nothing, nothing could hurt me except to lose you. Say it again. Say it again. I want to see if it frightens me again. I love you, Singleton. Will you marry me? Oh, yes, darling. Yes, yes. How do you like your house? My house. Oh, it sounds wonderful, Alan. My house. Oh, it's beautiful, darling, and I love it. Now that we're married, it's time for me to give you Aunt Dagmar's present. Oh. Dear darling. Oh, gold sovereigns. Ten gold sovereigns. She left them for the girl I would choose, for you. She wrote something on the envelope, Alan. Yes. Be sure she is as solid and true as these coins of pure gold. Alan. Oh, if she could see you, she'd be very happy, Singleton. I'll take only five sovereigns now, the rest when I'm awake. When you're awake? Well, it's true, isn't it? I'm only half a person now. Singleton, do you think it would make any difference to you or me if you did remember the past? Darling, there's no answer to that question. I love you and I think I'll always love you. But I must try to remember. Don't you want me to? I do very much, but you mustn't force your way into the past. Let it return on not just as it will. Well, I didn't care before. But I do now. I want to be your wife, a real wife completely. Alan. Alan, I must tell you something. Yes, darling. Well, this morning, in the church, when the vicar told me to repeat after him, I Singleton, take the Alan. Take the Alan. There was another name in my mind. It wasn't yours. Roger. The name Roger. I almost said it. Oh, you were nervous. That's all so was I. Yes, but why Roger? I don't know anybody by the name of the church. Not an unusual name. It was just the first one you thought of. It could have been Jack or Tom or... I don't know how I happened to come to think of it. Alan, was there someone in my past named Roger? Don't you worry about that. No. No, I don't want to worry about anything today. No, darling. Oh, it's taking such a risk to be as happy as this. You're so afraid of losing it. We won't lose it, Singleton. No, darling. We won't lose it. We pause now for station identification. This is CBS, the Columbia Broadcasting System. You're listening to Same Time, Same Station. The best of old time radio. And I'm your host, Jerry Hendigas. Here's your producer, William Keely. After our curtain, you're welcome, I'm sure, behind the scenes discussion with tonight's stars. Here they are in the final act of Love Letters. Loretta Young as Singleton and Joseph Cotton as Alan. Two months have passed. Wonderfully happy months for Alan and Singleton. But Alan realizes fully that each new day brings them that much closer to the moment when Singleton's memory will return. When she'll remember Roger Morlin and a murder and Love Letters signed with Roger's name but which he never wrote. It's the 21st day of June now and Singleton is observing her birthday. Darling, it was a wonderful idea picking the first day of summer, my birthday. That's the advantage of not knowing when you really were born. You had the whole calendar to choose from. What will happen if I remember my actual birthday? Oh, I'm counting on that. That's why I didn't buy you a present. Oh, that was mean of you, Alan. Because I have a present for you. Have what? I've been learning to write. Max has been helping me all these weeks. Here, I've written a letter to you. Thank you, darling. Aren't you going to read it? Of course. Dear Alan, there are many things I want to thank you for but I'll just name one because it covers all the others. Thank you for seeing life not as a burden or... not as a burden or punishment but as a dream and beauty which we have made for you. Alan, what's the matter? Don't you like my letter? It just surprised me. That's all. How did you happen to write that, dear? I don't know. The words just came as if I... as if I remembered them somewhere. You see, I'm remembering things every day. What things, darling? Well, I remember a beautiful white dress with red stains on it. What was that? I don't know when. But there was music and men in uniform, officers and officers danced. Well, there was a young man, quite wiffy and handsome. It was he. He was the one. He made me laugh and I spilled strawberry punch all over my dress. Don't think about him, Singleton. I've something much nicer for you to think about. What, Alan? Oh, you did get me a birthday present, didn't you? Down by the window. Down by the road. A new car! Well, not exactly new, but it runs. And it's mine? Happy birthday, sweetheart. Driving for an hour, dear. Don't you think it's time to turn back? Oh, no, not yet, Alan. Look, there's that sign again. It says Longreach. But I told you it's not a good road. But how do you know? Have you been on it? Well, you can see the road is... There's something down that road you don't want me to see, Alan. Of course not. All right, Singleton. We'll go to Longreach. That... that cottage there... Yes, then? Oh, it's such a dismal place, isn't it? Just don't look at it. But it fascinates me, Alan. I'd like to stop. I want to look at the cottage. If you wish, dear. It looks so neglected and so desolate. People just don't let this happen to a house without a reason, I wonder why. Wait a minute. There's a man he's looking at us. Oh, well, maybe he knows. Good morning! Good morning! Alan, look at him. He seems terrible. I know we are trespassing, but my wife wanted to see the place. Could you tell us whose house this is? I mean, who owns it? You asked me that? Yes. The end of the cottage is gone away. We don't want any visitors. Oh, I'm sorry. Please go away. Looks like a haunted house. I'm sorry we bothered you. We shouldn't have stopped. I mustn't be so curious. You see what happens when you talk to strange men? Darling, take me home. We have a wonderful house. I want to go home to my wonderful house. Hello, Singleton. You scared me, creeping up on me like this. I didn't want to call you. I just wanted to look at you sitting there on the garden wall. Darling. You're beautiful and safe, and nothing in the world can ever touch you. Nothing in the world can. I think of you, my dearest, as a distant promise of beauty untouched by the world. Roger wrote that to me. His name was Roger. Singleton. I don't remember his face, but he had a strange handwriting. I loved him. Oh, Alan. Alan, I loved him, and I don't know who he was. I don't know how I lost him, but... His letters. His letters meant so much to me. Nothing can ever be like that again. Singleton. No. No, that's not what he called me. I don't remember what he called me. Oh, Alan, what am I doing to you? It's all right. It's all right, dear. I understand. I love you, Alan. I love you, and I don't want to leave you. Don't let me, will you? I'm so afraid. I don't understand myself anymore, Alan. I love you, and I have no right to say it. You have every right, but you mustn't think about it now. You must rest and think of it calmly and get used to it. It's only a memory of the past. It can't change anything. Don't be afraid. You'll forget him. Did you forget Victoria Morland? Yes, as I forgot Victoria Morland. But you haven't forgotten that. Victoria, you love her, Alan. You still love her. I know you do. Singleton. Singleton. Now, uh, Max said you cannot get a picture of berries. Can I help you? The bushes are loaded with them. Oh, Alan. Alan, I'm sorry. Oh, darling, please. Where's the basket? It's here. It's here, Alan. Poor Dilly. She has to buy berries in the market. Alan, couldn't we send her some of these? Oh, of course. Oh, they're so big and sweet. It's blood. It's blood, Alan. Darling, that's just fruit sticking. That's all. No, no, it's blood. It's on my hands. I had a knife in my hand. There was a fire burning. He was on the floor by the fire. There were red spots on my white dress. What happened? What did I do, Alan? No, no, I don't want to see Aunt Beatrice. Please, Alan, put me down. Aunt Beatrice isn't here, darling. I'm just carrying you into the house, and you're going to rest. Yes, yes. It was another house, though, wasn't it? It was nice. What happened there, Alan? What did I do? Who was there? Who could see? Who? Who was there? Who could tell me? Alan, I'm afraid. Alan, I'm afraid. Yes, she's a sweet mac. Poor little thing. Take good care of her. You're going out? I've got to go. I've got to go to London right away. I'll let anyone in the house mac with any luck. I'll be back my morning. This is a nursing home. You must observe visiting hours. I've told you, nurse. I must see Miss Beatrice Remington. Miss Remington is not here any longer. Here? She left two days ago against medical advice. Sorry, sir. She didn't say. I see. It's a fine morning, isn't it? Yes, Mr. Quinton. Where did he go? To London, ma'am. He left last night while you were asleep. You feel better this morning, don't you? Why did he go to London, ma'am? I don't know, ma'am, but he'll be back soon. Oh, he shouldn't. He should never come back. Here now, Mrs. Quinton. That's no way to talk. Oh, you think there's something wrong with me, don't you? But I'm quite all right. You don't have to watch me. Well, there's the postman coming, isn't it? I'll get the name, ma'am. No, no, no. I'll get it. I'm not afraid of letters anymore. Just one letter, ma'am, for Mr. Quinton. Thank you. I'll be in the kitchen, ma'am. Breakfast in a minute. Yes, thank you, Mac. Just one letter for my husband. It's from Longreach, Beatrice Remington. I had to follow Longreach. I have come back to Metta Farm because I know my time is short. I want to be near Victoria. Victoria. I... I saw her yesterday. I must see you about her. I know that you love her as deeply as I do. I know that you love her. I know that you love her. I know that you love her. Oh, Singleton, I'm home, darling. Singleton. Mr. Allen. Hello, Mac. Where's my wife? She's gone, Mr. Allen. I've looked everywhere. She's gone. What happened? I don't know. I kept watching her, but she seemed to take a fence. I left her alone. No phone, Dilly Carson. Maybe she... Mac, this letter, what is it? It came this morning. Mrs. Quinton opened it. From Beatrice Remington. She read it. How could she understand? She thinks I... Mr. Allen! I'm going to Metta Farm. She's Mrs. Remington. You can come in. Thank you. Why do you come here? Oh, please forgive me. I'm Mrs. Allen Quinton, and I need your help. I must find Victoria Morland. I don't know Victoria Morland. What would you do? I read your letter. You know where she is. Why do you want to find her? Because my husband loves her. Then it's jealousy that brings you here. Oh, no, no, no. I want to give him up. I want to bring Victoria Morland back to him. She'll forgive him. He'll find a new happiness with her because I can't stay with him anymore. You don't love him? Oh, yes. Yes, I love him very much. But I have no right to remain with him. Why? Oh, don't ask me why. I don't know. I can't explain it. I don't remember. But... I do remember a knife. The white dress and a courtroom. They say I killed my husband. Oh, I don't want Alan to know that. Please, please help me save him. Let me find Victoria again. Then he'll forget me and it won't hurt him so much. Yes. Yes, I can help you find Victoria Morland. You will. Yes, she was my adopted daughter. All my life I had nothing until I found her. She made up for all the empty years. You loved her too? Yes. You must never forget that. I tried to give her all the happiness I had missed. I tried to protect her. But I couldn't save her from Roger Morland. Roger Morland? Roger Morland wrote letters. Yes. Victoria thought she loved him. I was against their marriage. But they were married anyway. He wasn't like his letters. No. She soon discovered that. Night after night I would hear her in a room sobbing. And then she'd sit for hours. Never moving. I couldn't stand to see it. And then one night I had a quarrel. It was in this room. They didn't hear me come in. A white dress. I was wearing a white dress. I was sitting there by the fireplace reading my letters. And Roger was there at a table. Drinking. I asked him to stop. Why should I stop? I'll drink if I want to. Roger. Why do you keep reading those letters? Because I love you. Because I want to think of you Stop reminding me of those blasted letters. I never wrote them. Do you hear me? I never wrote them. Another man wrote them for me. You meant nothing to him. Now give them to me. I'm sick of competing with a ghost. You're burning them. They're gone now. And I'm your husband and you're going to love me for a change instead of a lot of idiotic letters. Look at me. I said look at me. My letters. My letters. Stand the striker again. The blow never fell. I had seized a knife and come into the room. I killed Roger Mullen. Beatrice. Beatrice. You lay on this floor next to him. My letters. My letters. Over and over again that's all you could say. Suddenly there was a terrible pain in my heart. I tried to speak and I couldn't. I tried to move and I couldn't. I just stood here watching. Watching you. And your hands touched the knife and the blood. The blood. And now you know Victoria. Now you know. I didn't kill him. I didn't kill him. I who did couldn't either speak nor write. I couldn't tell him the truth in time. And I regained my voice. It was too late. We would serve the year in prison and were released. I wanted to go to the hotel. But you didn't know me. I had to keep silent to protect your sanity. And I only made it worse. A line never works no matter what our motives. I... I can't even ask you to forgive me, Victoria. It wasn't your fault. It wasn't. It was because I loved a man who didn't exist. Who was he? Who wrote the letters? We'll never know. I hope you'll never find him. He is the man we should hate. Hate. Victoria. Alan. Alan, Alan, you heard. Everything. You wanted to find Victoria Moorland for me. For you, Alan, for you. Darling. Nobody can build happiness on a lie. Beatrice Remington learned that and Roger Moorland learned it. And I... Tell me. If you found the man who wrote the letters, would you hate him? I don't know. I think of you, my dearest, as a distant promise of beauty untouched by the world. Alan. Do you think you can forgive me? It was you. You wrote the... Yes, Victoria. Oh, darling. You forget what else you wrote, do you? I don't want to remember. Oh, but I do. I'll remember forever now. It was terrible waiting for you. The finding it was such a great miracle that you suffered. Seemed only a small payment in return. Our stars will return for their curtain calls in just a moment. That's a snazzy number you're wearing, Sally. New, isn't it? Oh, no. I've luxed at lots of times. And I mean I use nothing but lux flakes. Materials are so hard to get now, you don't catch me taking chances with a nice cotton like this. Cotton in April? Cotton weather has already started in lots of places. In just two weeks, we'll be having its famous cotton carnival. You mean like Mardi Gras in New Orleans? Yes, hundreds of thousands of people flock to Memphis for what's practically a week-long holiday. With King Cotton in person? Oh, of course. And the maid of Cotton, too, his goodwill ambassador. This year, she's Miss Gwen Barnwell of Greenwood, Mississippi. Blonde and brown-eyed and pretty as a picture. The competition for that title was terrific when the contest was held last January. What has she been doing since then? She is the star model in an all-cotton fashion show called Night and Day It's Luxible Cottons. All the clothes can be made at home from McCall patterns. And all the fabrics are lux tested for washability. Thrifty to make, thrifty to care for. Yes, that's why women are so crazy about these luxible clothes, whatever they're shown. Lux is such safe care, it's long been America's favorite for all nice washables. Rayons, nice cottons and linens, as well as pre-war silks and woolens. When nice fabrics are hard to get, it's foolish to take chances with strong soap, hot water, or handling nice things roughly. Gentle lux care keeps colors lovely ever so long. You know it's safe for anything safe in water alone. If I can't get lux the first time I ask, I always try again. Lux flakes are worth waiting for. Back now to Mr. William Keely. Two talented stars, two delightful people gave us a thrilling evening in the Royal Theater. And here they are, Joseph Cotton and Loretta Young. Loretta, we're most grateful to you for interrupting an Easter vacation in New York to join us. Well, I've always had a soft spot in my heart for the Lux Theater Bill. Must be happy to have your husband out of the Army, Loretta. Oh, I am. Your family together again. In fact, I'd say your family life is pretty well described as an entirely domestic bliss. You mean David Niven is up to his practical jokes again? That's what I mean. While we were shooting, there was a scene in which I had to slap him. And? And it was really quite unnerving because after I slapped him, he looked at me reproachfully and started spitting out his teeth. Spitting out his teeth? Loretta, you must pack quite a wallet. Well, that's what I thought. I can see what you mean by an unnerving experience. What have you been doing, Joe, since you finished making David O'Sell's next duel in the sun? I have been sitting in a barber's chair, Bill, getting my hair cut. All this time getting a hair cut? Well, in the picture, I'd been wearing it so long, for so long that I... The barber couldn't make it in one operation? No, not without making me more light-headed than I am already, Bill. Well, Loretta and Joe, you'll both be co-starred in a picture shortly. And I hope we'll have you together again on Luxe before long. Oh, thank you, Bill. Now, what's on the schedule for next week? Next Monday night, we're proud to be able to bring our audience one of the most exciting pictures of recent years, with its original superb cast. It's Metro Golden Mayor's green hit, Gaslight, starring Ingrid Bergman and Charles Boyer. I can see your audience approved there. I can see your audience approved there. That's a great play and a great cast. Yes, the role in which Ingrid won the Academy Award. Gaslight is more than a fascinating mystery. It's the brilliant psychological study of a woman and two men, one seeking to destroy and the other to save her. A story of mounting drama and suspense that gives our stars full scope for their outstanding talents. Well, Gaslight should pack the house, Bill. Congratulations. Good night. Good night, and all our thanks for the superb performance. Tonight, we congratulate KMBC of Kansas City, who this week marks 25 years on the air. This is one of the pioneer radio stations carrying the Lux Radio Theater. Our sponsors, the makers of Lux Flakes, join me in inviting you to be with us again next Monday evening, when the Lux Radio Theater presents Ingrid Bergman and Charles Boyer in London. And Charles Boyer in Gaslight. This is William Keely, saying good night to you from Hollywood. Working to save American lives, the motion picture industry has mobilized its many powerful resources to contribute to the drive on cancer. This week, collections will be taken up in every motion picture studio and theater to help check this dread affliction. You are asked to do your part by contributing to this vitally important drive promoted throughout the theaters of America and the Hollywood motion picture industry. Our music was directed by Louis Silvers. Next week, part of the country goes on daylight saving time. If your area remains on standard time, you'll hear the Lux Radio Theater one hour earlier. This is your announcer, John Milton Kennedy, reminding you to tune in again next Monday night to hear Gaslight with Ingrid Bergman and Charles Boyer.