[99]ANNE. I know. (In distress) Why aren’t we?
LEONARD. The car—Saunders, a fool of a chauffeur—a series of unfortunate accidents——
ANNE. Do you often have these unfortunate accidents, Leonard?
LEONARD. My dear Anne, you aren’t suggesting that I’ve done this on purpose!
ANNE. No, no. (She leaves him, and goes and sits down.) But why to-night of all nights?
LEONARD. Of course, it’s damned annoying missing the boat, but we can get it to-morrow morning. We shall be in Paris to-morrow night.
ANNE. To-morrow night—but that makes such a difference. I hate every hour we spend together like this in England.
LEONARD. Well, really, I don’t see why——
ANNE. You must take it that I do, Leonard. I told you from the first that it was run-away or nothing with me; there was going to be no intrigue, no lies and pretences and evasions. And somehow it seems less—less sordid, if we begin our new life together in a new country. (With a little smile) Perhaps the French for what we are doing is not quite so crude as the English.... Yes, I know it’s absurd of me, but there it is.
LEONARD (with a shrug). Oh, well! (Taking out his case) Do you mind a cigarette?