Duck finagles a potential deal between his former British employers and Sterling Cooper, and falls back off the wagon while he's at it. Meanwhile, Roger proposes to his young secretary and begins his divorce proceedings.
Peggy guilts Euro Young Creative Kurt into taking her to see Bob Dylan, and when the SC associates tease them about their romantic involvement, Kurt informs them without shame that he's a big old Mary. And like all good Mary's he takes it upon himself to give Peggy the makeover she so desperately needs.
And after his whirlwind weekend, Don calls up a mystery person, introducing himself as Dick Whitman and promising he'll see them soon. Intrigue! -- Lauren Gitlin
We pan up a nubile pair of legs in a hotel-room bed as we hear Jane's voice reciting a love poem she's apparently writing as we watch, and then Roger emerges from having taken a shower and catches a few lines. Seemingly moved, he asks who wrote it, and Jane smiles. "I write a lot of poetry when I'm inspired." Considering she referred to herself as feeling "delicious and destroyed," I'm guessing inspiration enhances other pursuits of hers as well. As if to validate my thought, Roger tells her he thinks he should stop being surprised by anything she does, and she agrees. "You shouldn't. It's insulting." Heh. After some more discussion of the poetry, she tells him their souls are the same age, and I'd think that line was barfy if I didn't put Roger's emotional age at somewhere around twenty anyway. After some making out that really tests the limits of stage-kissing, Roger breathes that Jane is getting to him, and after Jane asks what assurances she has in the relationship by way of an uncharacteristically tortured Alice In Wonderland reference, he tells her he loves her. She points out that Mona and Margaret have been his life for a long time, but he counters by saying he's been thinking about something for a while: "I want you to be my wife." This seems like a horrible idea, given how anti-commitment Roger's arc has seemed all season, but no one ever thought of him as particularly logical or consistent, least of all me. At least if he dumps Jane after twenty-five years, she'll still be prime cougar age. Anyway, she can't believe he's serious, but the intensity of his gaze is better persuasion than any words could be, and she accepts. As if Margaret didn't have enough problems without wondering if her husband is checking out Jane's rack at family dinners when she's not looking.
In the conference room, Ken is running down some Right Guard market research numbers as Harry sits back with his feet on the desk and Sal scans the latest Playboy for typos. Having feigned heterosexuality for all of three seconds, he asks if anyone (Smith, Smeeth, and Peggy are also in attendance) watched Loretta Young the night before. Harry says he missed it but asks what happened and Sal responds, "I can't even describe it. It was so awful." Sal, if I could find the words to recap The Mountain, you can try a little harder. Smith playfully asks Peggy if they can take advantage of Don's absence to order some food on the company dime, and Peggy the Mouse decides to play: "If you'll all swear Gillette dropped in." Heh. No one has a problem with this except, uncharacteristically, Ken, who wants some ideas for Right Guard. Peggy argues that they already have a great campaign, and she and Ken go back and forth for a bit until Harry somewhat wistfully bemoans how much Loretta Young has lost it by musing that she was his father's favorite. Sal: "The aprons. The nauseating upholstery on the couch. Strangers who drop by." You're sounding a little $25,000 Pyramid about it, Sal, but I'm starting to get the picture.