Hart to Hart (1979–1984): Season 4, Episode 6 - Hart's Desire - full transcript

Max: This is my
boss, Jonathan Hart,

a self-made millionaire.

He's quite a guy.

This is Mrs. H. She's gorgeous.

She's one lady who knows
how to take care of herself.

By the way, my name is Max.

I take care of both of them,

which ain't easy,
'cause when they met...

it was murder.

( barks )

"As General
Warden's Union troops



put the torch to Gray Oaks,

the once-glorious plantation,

Dabney Canfield, colonel
of the Confederacy...

swore a silent
oath of vengeance.

For him, the war
would never end."

( book clatters onto table )

I meant every word
of that oath, Alicia.

General Warden will
never return here again.

A bit more wine, Alicia?

Why won't you answer me?

Max: "For six months after
General Warden took Alicia away,

Dabney was consoled only
by the bittersweet memory

of her kiss.

This was the kiss
that the war forbade,



the kiss for which
Dabney had waited.

As he relived its sweetness,

he came to know that
Alicia was no mere mortal,

but a goddess
descended from on high."

Just a mortal, Max.

But a very hungry one.

What's for lunch?

"She was more to him now
than he had ever dreamed."

Never mind, Max.
I'll get it myself.

Pretty hot stuff, huh, Freeway?

Jonathan.

I thought you
were at the office.

Oh, darn it. ( snaps )

You caught me.

What are you doing?

I'm preparing for the first
annual family barbecue.

As a matter of fact, I'm
taking the whole week off

to celebrate a
series of holidays.

What holidays are those?

Well, Groundhog Day.

That's one of my favorites.

That's when they see your shadow

and you have to go
to bed for six weeks.

We already did that one.

- Mmm.
- ( laughing )

- Oh, darling.
- Mmm.

You know, it's gonna
be a very special week.

- It is?
- Yup.

It's gonna be
Jennifer Hart week.

- Ohh.
- And that means

that you can do
anything you want

every day, whatever.

Oh, I like that.

I knew I loved
you for something.

- ( buzzer sounds )
- I'll get that.

- Hello?
- Man: Is Mrs. Hart in?

This is Mrs. Hart.
Who is this, please?

Jennifer, can you spell necessary,
business, and successful?

Necessary?

Professor? Come on up.

Oh, it's the professor.

Professor Elliott Lawrence. I
studied with him at Stanford.

Today he is one of the most
important literary critics in the country.

- You'll love him.
- Yeah.

You think he'll,
uh, like barbecue?

I hope so.

- Professor!
- Ahh!

Edwards, you're supposed to look

some years have
passed since college.

You haven't changed a bit.

Still as feisty as ever.

This is my husband, Jonathan.

- How do you do?
- How do you do?

You're just in
time for the first

annual family barbecue.

You see, it's
Jennifer Hart week.

Professor: Mm. That was good.

Jennifer: Delicious, darling.

Thank you. Glad you enjoyed it.

Well, now, here I am,

having the best hot dog
I've ever had in my life,

and I have to ask you a favor.

Just name it, professor.

Have you ever heard
of Victoria Gregory?

Victoria Gregory?
She's my favorite writer.

Obviously, a man
of questionable taste.

What are you talking
about? She's fantastic.

I'm one of her biggest fans.

Well, then you'll
be happy to know

that she has just won

the Romance Writer
of the Year award.

Great!

Is that what's bothering
you, Professor?

Not exactly.

As you know, there's
never been a picture of her.

That's right.

Well, there couldn't have been,

because, you see.. I
am Victoria Gregory.

You?! No way!

She's gotta be a she!

I've built an entire career

as a man of letters.

And if it were known
that I've paid my bills

by writing... Garbage?

Garbage?! What
are you talking about?

That's great writing. It
won the award, didn't it?

Professor: No, no,
no. Mr. Hart is right.

Nevertheless, my
publisher insists

that this award be accepted.

And if I do, I lose my cover,

because, you see,
readers will only buy

romantic novels
written by women.

If I don't, I lose my publisher.

Now, I need the income

from a few more Victoria
Gregory novels so I can retire

and write the book I've
always wanted to write.

And you should write.

How can we help you?

Well, Jennifer,

I would like for you to accept
the award as Victoria Gregory.

( laughs ) Impersonate her?

Well, it's no crime to impersonate
someone who doesn't exist.

And besides, no one has
ever seen her, so it'll be easy.

Jonathan: Well, I'm
not so sure about that.

Jennifer is very well
known in the literary field.

Someone's bound
to recognize her.

Not with a change of hairdo

and a bit of makeup,

and maybe a picture hat.

Look. Look, I know
I'm asking a lot.

But you're uniquely
qualified to bring this off.

You were always a quick study.

Oh. Thank you very
much, professor.

It's all here, Jennifer.

Selected works, and a crash
course on her background.

What do you think, darling?

Where does the
ceremony take place?

In New Orleans,
Victoria Gregory country.

New Orleans?

What do you think?

Jennifer Hart week
on Bourbon Street?

Hmm?

But how?

How could Victoria Gregory

turn up in New Orleans
with Jonathan Hart?

- J. Hartley.
- Who?

You're J. Hartley,
her secretary.

Now, look, I've
got it all worked out.

I've never been a
secretary before.

Well, I've never been a
romantic novelist before.

On the other hand...

bouillabaisse, chicken gumbo,

shrimp creole... Shoofly pie.

Mmm.

Tell me something, Professor.

Was Hemingway a dame?

Jonathan: What page are you on?

What? Um, 73.

Turn to the last
page and listen to this.

I don't want to know the ending.

Just listen to this:

"Alicia moved nearer to
the dashing Union general,

her sworn enemy,

and looked up, her eyes
shining through tears

as she whispered,
'I love you so much

that nothing... nothing matters.

Not even Gray Oaks,

even though it's part of
me and always will be"...

"Just as Dabney
Canfield is part of me,

because he is Gray
Oaks and all it stands for.

But that's all gone now,

and I am now Alicia
Raleigh Warden.

Till death do us part."

Whew. What an ending.

Jonathan: Sweetheart,
That's only the beginning.

Man: Alicia...

Alicia!

Why won't you answer?

In two days, Victoria Gregory
will be in New Orleans.

She wrote our story. She'll
know where to find you.

And I will force her to tell me.

I swear it.

I swear it on my commission

as an officer of
the Confederacy.

Victoria Gregory,
whoever she is...

will tell me her
secrets or she'll die.

Jennifer: I can't
figure out what to wear,

I thought something pastel.

You know, like one of
the characters in her book.

Yeah.

If you're thinking about that

for Victoria Gregory,
scrap it, Mrs. H.

- Victoria can't wear pink.
- Why not?

Because Morgana
Meredith always wears pink.

She's America's answer
to Barbara Cartland.

Oh, well, that
explains everything.

Morgana is her competitor.

You, Victoria,

have just beaten her
out of the grand prize.

Oh.

Well, scrap the pink.

Morgana's got enough problems.

Actually, I was thinking
of something more tweedy.

Forget it. Victoria
don't wear tweeds.

She's gotta be classy,
romantic, glamorous.

Like you, Mrs. H.

Well, thank you, Max.

Only, maybe blonde.

Oh, what about
my, uh, secretary?

J. Hartley.

Don't get cute,
Max. Don't get cute.

I see Hartley as a
conservative type...

With-it, but not flashy.

Narrow collar, thin tie,

shell-rimmed spectacles.

You need work, Mr. H.

Thanks, Max.

( "Way Down Yonder in
New Orleans" playing )

Woman: Morgana, darling,

you look like the
last rose of summer.

The summer of '65.

Morgana: Ah, tell me.

What are you planning to
wear to the costume ball?

Oh, something
simple, historical.

Oh, a Confederate flag.

And what are you
coming as, sweetheart,

a sharecropper, a cotton-picker,

or just poor white trash?

Oh, I'll leave the trash to
you and your word processor.

Uh, Miss Meredith,
Miss Wentworth, may I?

Of course.

( click ) Thanks,

Just wanted to get a
picture of the runners-up.

( chuckles )

( chuckles sarcastically )

So you know, darling,
I never did mind

coming in second
to you all these years

because I always
figured when you died

and went to your
royalties in the sky,

I'd have my just desserts.

Morgana: Well, it looks like
you've already been having

"just desserts."

And now that Victoria Gregory

has beaten you
out for the prize,

I shall simply have to
wait a little bit longer.

And that's not fiction.

No, indeed, it is not fiction.

I know what it is,

but I'm too much
of a lady to say it.

You sound like you'd like to
teach Miss Gregory a lesson or two.

Morgana: Oh, I could give
her a plot... a nice family one.

Well, let's drink up.

I can't wait to get
over to the riverboat

and see what she looks like.

I hear she's as old as
Agatha was at the end.

Oh, my dear, that's the nicest
thing you've said all afternoon.

Well, to us, and to
next year's contest.

Excuse me.

Did I hear you say

that Victoria Gregory
will be on the riverboat?

Yes, there's going to be a
conference at the riverboat.

You sound as though
you know Victoria Gregory.

She may be someone
I've known all my life.

Well, are you a writer?

Well, you could say

I've got a very
vivid imagination.

Oh, uh, see you
at the riverboat.

Bye.

Jonathan, couldn't
we go to the hotel

before we go to the
press conference?

My stomach's doing flip-flops.

No, we'd be late.
It sounds to me

like you've got a classic
case of butterflies.

Oh, well, I have mosquitoes.

I'm beginning to forget
everything I learned.

Oh, have no fear,
Hartley is here.

Let's go over it
again, all right?

What did you write
after "Rebel Lady"?

- "Rebel Lady."
- "Rebel Lady."

"Rebel Lady"...uh,
"When Cotton Was King."

Oh, that's very good.

Very good. And after
that, you wrote, uh...

Jonathan, maybe
Victoria doesn't have to go

to this press
conference after all.

You could just say that...

she came down with
a case of the vapors.

Darling, you're doing
fine. Really, just fine.

Hartley, how much do I pay you?

It ain't the money that
keeps me around, honey.

It's the hospitality.

( "Waiting for the
Robert E. Lee" playing )

Oh, look, look! There's
Victoria Gregory!

Man: Are you sure? Nobody's
supposed to know what she looks like.

Oh, I'm sure. That's
Victoria Gregory.

I once met her secretary.

She's beautiful, isn't she?

How do you feel about
being here in New Orleans?

Miss Gregory can't answer
any questions right now.

We're having a press
conference onboard the boat.

She's gorgeous.

Hi, y'all.

Here she is. Miss Gregory.

My goodness gracious, such
a beautiful, lovely reception.

Welcome, Miss Gregory.

This way to the
press conference.

Please, follow me.

I would say that the
rumors about her age

are greatly exaggerated.

I hope she's electrocuted
by her typewriter.

Yeah, not if I
can get her first.

Miss Gregory, Miss Gregory,

why haven't you been
seen in public before?

Ah, well, that is because
I'm a very private person.

Hartley: Miss Gregory.

Oh, thank you.

Where do you get
your characters?

Uh, where do I
get my characters?

Well, I get my
characters from...

where every writer
gets their characters:

from life experiences and...
and from my imagination.

Reporter: Then you
are your characters?

Jennifer: Oh, well,
yes, I suppose so.

Reporter: All of them?

I suppose... yes, I suppose so.

Frances Maxwell,
"Tomorrow's Woman."

Why do you have
a male secretary?

Oh, well, that is because

I am an equal
opportunity employer.

( laughter )

Excuse me. Did you say

you really are the
characters you write about?

Oh, well, yes, I
suppose I am, Mr...

Canfield.

Jennifer: Canfield.
Yes, Mr. Canfield.

Why, isn't that a
happy coincidence?

I have a character called
Canfield in one of my books,

"Heart's Desire." Do
you remember that?

Oh, yes. And even Alicia?

Alicia? Yes, I suppose there
is part of me that is Alicia.

I love Alicia.

Why, thank you, Mr. Canfield.

I ought to tell you,
there's someone here...

Uh, Miss Gregory.

Excuse us. There's
some more questions.

Uh, perhaps we can talk later.

Yes, don't you worry.

I'll take care of everything.

Jennifer: Thank you.

- Miss Gregory!
- Please, Miss Gregory.

Elliott Lawrence, Miss Gregory.

Could I interview
you someplace quiet?

Professor: Miss
Gregory, do you consider

what you write to be literature?

Oh, well, now, Mr. Lawrence,
you are the critic.

It is up to you to
make that judgment.

Oh, very well, uh...

then let me put it this way:

I believe you write
purely commercial tripe.

Would you care to comment?

No, I would not.

But come to think of it,

isn't that what James
Earlington of Leitchfield

said about Shakespeare?

Are you comparing yourself

to Shakespeare, Miss Gregory?

Oh, no, Mr. Lawrence.

I'm comparing you
to Mr. Earlington.

Thank you. Thank you.

Morgana: Haven't you
read any of my books?

Oh, now, really, Mr. Canfield,

who do you work for,
anyway, the "Times-Picayune"?

Did you mean what
you said about her?

Are you jealous of her?

Oh, Mr. Canfield!

Would you kill her?

Well, I mean, I'd be
perfectly justified if I did.

She slaughters history and
murders the King's English.

Would you kill her?

Well, I might, if I
could get away with it.

Even if you knew she
was really Alicia Raleigh?

Would you kill Alicia Raleigh?

Well, Alicia Raleigh is
only a character in a book.

And... and... and so...

And so is Dabney Canfield.

Oh! Oh, my... (
riverboat whistle blowing )

Croissants, tea cakes.

That's coffee. We ordered tea.

Clairborne Manor only
serves coffee at high tea, sir.

Oh, of course.

Well, I'm sure that there
is chicory in the coffee?

Clairborne Manor never
forgets to add the chicory, sir.

There you go, Mr. Hartley.

Thank you.

And there you go.

Thank you, sir.

Oh, Mr. Hartley, I have here

a copy of "Chattanooga Dawn."

I wrote it myself, and if perhaps
you could show it to Miss Gregory,

any help that she could give
would be greatly appreciated.

Well, I'll see that she gets it.

Oh, thank you very much, sir.

I really do appreciate it.

See, I have visions
of a movie sale...

I'm sure that there's one in
there and I'll discuss it with her.

Oh, thank you very much, sir.

Thank you.

Coast is clear.

Ah, tea for two for three.

Sorry, Elliott.

We didn't want anybody to think

we were fraternizing
with the enemy.

Well, a phony female author

hiding in a hotel
room with an acerbic,

yet very handsome
literary critic.

I feel a new story coming on.

I feel chicory coming on.

That's because they
serve coffee for tea.

Oh.

Mmm, thank you.

What's that?

Oh, that is a manuscript
called "Chattanooga Dawn."

One of your admirers wrote that.

They'd like to have
your professional opinion.

Oh. Elliott.

"Chattanooga Dawn"?

Well, there's a certain
shallowness about it.

Well, it's so bad,
it could be good.

However...

to the most beautiful and
convincing romance writer

the world will ever know.

Oh.

- Here.
- Thanks.

Oh, by the way, I
hope you didn't mind

what I said at the
press conference.

Jennifer: Not at all.

Did I do all right?

- A+.
- Thank you.

James Earlington of Leitchfield.

Isn't that funny? I
never heard of him.

I would have been
surprised if you had.

I made him up.

- You did?
- Mm-hmm.

Well, you'll have to take
credit for that, professor.

You're the one that taught
her how to use her imagination.

All you have to do now is
get through the ball tonight

and we're home free.

After we finish our tea,

we're going to have to
disappear into our own rooms.

Oh, yes.

Separate rooms.

With connecting balconies.

A lot of good that does.

Well, that's more than
Romeo and Juliet had.

Huh.

Canfield: That Yankee will
never take you away again.

You'll be safe back
here at Gray Oaks.

( knock on door )

Yes? Who is it?

Flowers, Miss Gregory.

Oh!

Ah, why, thank you very much.

"Your servant, Col. Dabney
Canfield at Gray Oaks."

Hmm.

( whistling )

Black roses?

( whistling )

( whistles )

I thought we were supposed
to have adjoining balconies.

So did I!

I may get hoarse.

Your room or mine?

( footsteps approaching )

Oh, do excuse me.

Am I interrupting
your creative flow?

Hi, Rosemary.

Oh, no, no, I was, uh...

I was just dictating
something from my new novel.

Dictating?

My dear, you need
two tin cans and a string.

Well, I just have to work
whenever inspiration strikes.

Uh-huh. How fascinating.

I don't suppose you'd
care to divulge the storyline,

or is it a deep, dark secret?

Well, it's, uh...

It's a sort of gothic
murder story.

You see, this lady author
checks into a hotel room

in between the
two prime suspects.

One of whom is a
homicidal maniac.

Good night, Miss Wentworth.

Sleep tight, Rosemary.

( whistles )

( knocking )

Is that you?

( giggles )

I think we're adding quite a bit
of color to Victoria's character.

I hope that Rosemary's
peeping through a keyhole.

I don't think there are
any keyholes in this hotel.

I'll bet she brought
one of her own.

Oh!

What was that for?

That's for being
such a terrific boss.

Oh, what do I get for being
an award-winning novelist?

Is that it?

Oh, you're going to have
to do better than that.

My fans are already
sending me flowers.

Very strange flowers, but...

nonetheless, flowers.

Interesting fan.

Col. Dabney
Canfield of Gray Oaks.

One of the characters
from "Heart's Desire."

Also the same
fellow on the boat.

Well, he probably knows
we're going to the ball

dressed as the
characters from the book,

and he just wants to play along.

We have about an
hour until the ball.

- We do?
- Mm-hmm.

I love you as a blonde.

Aww.

Well, maybe we should
see if blondes have more fun.

Yeah, maybe we should.

Darling, whether
you're Jennifer,

Victoria or Alicia,

I'm glad I am Jonathan or J.

- You know why?
- Why?

Jonathan: Because we're as
close as two pages in a book.

Jennifer: Ooh.

( dance music playing )

( party chatter )

- Oh, Mr. Lawrence.
- Yes?

Rosemary Wentworth.

You reviewed my novel
"Whispers by Candlelight."

Well, I have to call
them as I see them.

Oh, don't apologize.

You said it was steamy
sex from cover to cover.

That line sold 50,000 copies.

May I have this dance?

It seems Victoria Gregory made
quite an impression upon the press.

A very bright and
attractive woman.

Coming from you,
that's a rave review.

Have you seen Morgana?

Uh, not since this afternoon.

Neither have I.

I'm beginning to get a
little bit worried about her.

Huh. I suppose she'll show up.

Well, shut my little old mouth.

( applause )

My, my, my, my, my.

Why, this looks like the
beginning of a truly gothic romance.

You be careful now, Rosemary.

He is truly lethal
with a pen in his hand.

Hartley, shall we?

Shall I?

Be my guest.

Excuse us.

Mr. Lawrence!

( waltz playing )

Incredible, isn't she?

You could swear she was Alicia.

Straight from the
pages of her own book.

She's come to life.

My Alicia, here in New Orleans.

Just like it was written.

Oh, yeah, I get it.

You're dressed as Col.
Canfield from the book.

The book is the truth.

Hartley, I bet she barely pays
you enough to cover the rent.

I'll pay you double
what she pays you.

Actually, my typing is
the hunt-and-peck method.

Wonderful. We'll hunt
and peck together.

( laughs )

Now that we have a moment,

I want you to know
I'm proud of you.

Why, Mr. Lawrence, you do go on.

No, no, no, I'm not
talking to Victoria.

I mean you, Jennifer.

Your husband's a wonderful man,

and it's a good marriage.

I'd say great.

But you're not
just great together.

As I've tried to point out
in my reviews of your work,

you are also very
good on your own.

Oh, that's because I
had a very good teacher.

( chuckles )

Oh, come on, give me a hint.

Is it really a mystery?

I can't really tell you.

You'll have to wait
until publication.

Oh, I may wait a
couple of weeks longer

and pick it up from
the remainder pile.

( waltz ends, applause )

You haven't seen
Morgana, have you?

No, I haven't.

Excuse me.

She's all yours.

Thank you.

Well, how'd you
do with Rosemary?

Interesting.

But cold.

Oh, well, I suspect

that beneath that cold exterior

is a truly cold interior.

You're right.

First she tried to steal me,

then she tried to steal
the plot of your book.

Oh, how'd she do?

I didn't say a word
about the book.

Good boy.

( party chatter )

( dance music playing )

( riverboat whistle blowing )

Aah! Aah!

Aah! Aah!

( music stops )

( screaming continues )

Someone! Help!

Help, help!

Look, it's Morgana!

Oh, oh!

Alicia, it's time.

What?

Oh, you're the gentleman
from this afternoon.

Where are we going?

Col. Canfield at your service.

We have to hurry
before he comes back.

Who?

The Yankee general.

What Yankee general?

Oh.

You sent me the roses.

Canfield: Hurry, Alicia.

Oh, no, please, now.

Jonathan!

( grunts )

Elliott.

Call the police.

Where's Jennifer?

She's on the dance floor, why?

One of her admirers

has left one calling
card too many,

Canfield: Manassas,
Gettysburg, Vicksburg.

Bull Run.

I bled. I watched
my friends die.

All because of him.

But I survived all
because of you, Alicia.

No.

No?

But you are Alicia.

Either that, or some
cunning impostor.

An agent of the enemy,

delivered into my
hands to deceive me.

In which case...

But that won't be
necessary, will it?

You are Alicia, aren't you?

( riverboat whistle blares )

You got here about 9:00,
you were on the dance floor,

and you heard the scream
coming from that area over there?

Okay.

Thank you very much, sir.

- Have you seen Jennifer?
- No.

Officer, my wife is missing.

Mine likewise, sir. I haven't
seen my wife since the Mardi Gras.

If you'll stand
right over there,

I'll get to you in
just a few seconds.

All right, sir?

Canfield: The Yankees
burnt the outbuildings

years ago, my love.

They cut down the grove,

but I swear to
you as a Canfield,

I shall replant that
grove as it was.

Let us drink to Gray Oaks.

To Gray Oaks.

As it was, and as
it shall be again.

Gray Oaks?

Mr. H, Gray Oaks ain't real.

It's a place in a story.

I know that, Max.

It's in "Heart's Desire."

It's near New
Orleans, but where?

Lemme think.

Would you think fast, Max?

It's important.

I am thinking fast.

I think it's, uh,

a little bit south of the city.

South of the city?

In a swamp near the river,

and there's a Parish
cemetery right next to it.

Thanks, Max. Thanks.

Look, Mr. H, this ain't
real. It's all make-believe.

Mr. H? Mr. H?

( barks )

Do you remember the night...

the night of the cotillion,

when Major Howard was
high as a Georgia pine?

He even brought his horse
out onto the dance floor.

Mr. Canfield... I mean...

Mr. Canfield, I'm not Alicia.

I'm just dressed
up to look like her.

Don't try to deceive me.

But you never
used to wear gloves.

Oh...

A lady always wear
gloves to a ball.

This ring, he must've
give you this ring.

You married him. Why?

Because... There can
only be one reason,

because you wanted to.

He's here in New Orleans.

He's the one you were
dancing with on the riverboat.

That's him, that's
General Warden.

( board creaks )

Canfield.

General Warden.

I promised Alicia you'd never
set foot in Gray Oaks again.

( grunts )

( coughing )

( grunts )

Canfield: Hurry, Alicia.

Jonathan!

Canfield!

Come on, darling.

Jonathan!

Keep going, don't look back.

Come on.

Oh!

( coughing )

Well, the plantation's
gonna need a fire department.

What about James?

With a doctor and the police,

I don't think he'll
lack attention.

What should we do now?

I don't know about you,

but I could use a
bourbon and branch water.

Wait till we get home.

Tomorrow?

Well, look at it this way:

Tomorrow is another day.

Mail call.

Thanks, Max.

Great. Thanks, Max.

Oh, here it is.

A letter from the professor.

I hope it's good news.

I wonder what he's up to now.

Well, it's not exactly
what he's been up to.

It's what I've been up to.

Darling, I wrote the first
chapter of a romance novel,

just like "Heart's Desire"!

No kidding! When did
you have time to do that?

Oh, I fit it in.

That's great, Mrs. H.

Well, we'll see how great it is

when I read what the
professor has to say.

He's the expert.

I wanted his expert advice

on whether or not
I should continue.

Well, what does he have to say?

"Dear Jennifer,

your style is crisp,
clear and clean

and will appeal to every
admirer of Fitzgerald,

Hemingway and Twain." Ha!

- Oh.
- Not bad.

"However, admirers
of these authors

simply do not read
romance novels.

I suggest you
abandon this project

and return to the kind of
writing taught in my class.

In other words:

Don't do as I do. Do as I say.

Much love, Elliott."

What does he know?

Well, he did sell
millions of paperbacks.

Well, darling,

maybe you're the hardcover type.

Don't worry, Mrs. H.

If he can write like
Victoria Gregory,

you can write like... like...

Mickey Spillane.

( barks )

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