ANNE (smiling). After all, darling, he thinks I’m your wife.... Or don’t wives light their husband’s cigarettes?
LEONARD. I believe you’re right, Anne. There’s something odd about this place.
[101]ANNE. So you feel it now?
LEONARD. What did he mean by saying he knew my rank, but not my name?
ANNE (lightly). Perhaps he looked inside your cap—like Sherlock Holmes—and saw the embroidered coronet.
LEONARD. How do you mean? There’s nothing inside my cap.
ANNE. No, darling. That was a joke. (He nods tolerantly.)
LEONARD. And the table laid. Only one table.
ANNE. Yes, but it’s for three. They didn’t expect us.
LEONARD (relieved). So it is.... It’s probably a new idea in hotels—some new stunt of Harrods—or what’s the fellow’s name?—Lyons. A country-house hotel. By the way, what will you drink?