ANNE (lifting her glass). A Happy Ending!
LATIMER. You don’t drink, Leonard. You would have the adventure end unhappily, as is the way of the modern novel?
LEONARD. I don’t understand the beginning of it, Mr. Latimer. I don’t—you will forgive me for saying so—I don’t see how you came into it. Who are you?
ANNE. Our host, Leonard.
LEONARD. So it seems, my dear. But in that case, how did we come here? My chauffeur told us that this was an hotel—your man assured me, when I asked, [105]that it was an hotel, a sort of hotel. And now it seems that we are in a private house. Moreover, we seem to have been expected. And then again—if you will forgive me—it appears to be an unusual kind of house. I tell you frankly that I don’t understand it.
LATIMER. I see your difficulty, Leonard.
LEONARD (stiffly). Nor am I accustomed to being called Leonard by a perfect stranger.
LATIMER. What you are saying for yourself is, “Who is this man Latimer? Is he known? Is he in the Stud Book?—I mean Debrett. Is he perhaps one of the Hammersmith Latimers, or does he belong to the Ealing Branch?”
ANNE (calmly eating). What does it matter?
LATIMER. Yes, but then you like the fish. Leonard doesn’t.