It is a bright, blustery afternoon in early April, and 15 stories below, tugs and barges are plowing through the wind-whipped water of the East River. But in the living room of his Manhattan apartment, Rex Harrison is enjoying spring: masses of Michaelmas daisies and tulips, great pots of begonias and African lilies, and islands of pink-and-white quince. He has just returned from a rehearsal, and, as he sits down to talk about a career that spans six decades, he admits to being tired. The play, Frederick Lonsdale's Aren't We All?, was a sellout in London last year; it opens on...
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