Wealthy businessman's daughter, who as a young girl caught rheumatic fever and now suffers from a shortness of breath, discovers her marriage to a charming ne'er-do-well was arranged by daddy (whom she affectionately refers to as "Darling"); worse than that, she may in fact have only a few weeks left to live, leaving her husband free to marry her conniving romantic-rival. Pure bunk. Paul Osborn's screenplay (via Jerome Weidman's thin story) trots out the redundant flashbacks in the second-half instead of proceeding ahead with the plot, which submerges the already-soapy scenario in grim talk. Why go backwards when we can figure out what's happening for ourselves? This is a "woman's weeper" with no faith in its target audience, so simplistic is the set-up. Dorothy McGuire, swathed in furs for most of the picture, isn't a canny, clever heroine at all; when she's upset, she turns inward and stony. Upon realizing her marriage is basically a sham, she shrinks away from her husband like the consummate virgin (well, that's a possibility, she and Van Johnson sleep in separate beds after all!). Ruth Roman has the film's best moments as a society shark with her trap set for Van, but what exactly do these women see in him? Johnson can be charming when it's required, but put him in a melodramatic setting and he goes stony, too. MGM production values only so-so, however director Gottfried Reinhardt tries adding some visual flavor to the flashback segues and he attempts a lively pacing for the movie's initial half-hour. ** from ****