This is the first pairing of Tracy and Hepburn and her introduction is simply unforgettable: that face, shining, as she interrupts adjusting a stocking – to take stock of him. And their romantic scenes are for the ages. She is an influential political columnist, he’s a sports journalist for the same paper. The film is enjoyable precisely for the length of their romance until they say their I do’s, half way. Then it all … goes the way of marriage, actually. They can’t live with each other, he can’t stand her popularity and lifestyle, dumps the child she’s adopted and moves out. The ending in which she is humiliated trying to make breakfast is not worthy of Ring Lardner, the writer. In fact it was altered following previews which went down badly with a wartime audience. Evidently independent women are only tolerable up to the point where they can be dominated. As in life, so in movies. Sad.