Real Havana. And you can't buy them for love nor money. How do you manage it?
FREDA
(Striking match and holding it up to him.) Oh, I just do. I could have offered you worse, I assure you.
(Vanderlip puffs on cigar—long, slow, appreciative puffs. His face loses its sullen expression. He sighs contentedly. He relaxes his body, sinks back, and for the first time looks really comfortable.)
FREDA
And now, Minnie, you have your reputation to live up to.
MAID
(Hesitating an instant.)
The Scotch?
(Freda nods head, and Maid goes out to right.)