"What do you mean, put—?"
"Just what I said. Put your coat on."
"Oh, Harry, stop. I don't like to be talked to like that and you know it."
"Edith." He walked across the room until he was standing very close to her. "Edith, put your coat on and get in the car. We're going into New York and you're going to hear Van Richie on that radio if I have to tie you to the seat."
"You're out of your mind. You must be out of your mind! Have you been drinking or something?"
He stepped closer. Instinctively she stepped back. They stared at each other. After a moment, she went over to the closet. "Well, if that's the way you're going to be," she said, taking down her hat and coat. "I still say it's the silliest thing...."
He found the corners of his mouth were dry. His knees felt watery. But he drove steadily and surely through the heavy traffic. She kept repeating how silly it was.
He showed her the theatre with Van Richie's name out front. They drove back and forth along his homeward route. Three times they heard Van Richie sing.
On the way back, she began talking again. "Shut up," he said, without raising his voice, without looking at her. She gasped. But she knew enough to remain silent.
The critics called it the best musical since My Fair Lady. They had special praise for Van Richie: "He has made the transition from crooner to comedian with grace and style ... the years have left the familiar voice intact."