Nellie.
How can you tell such stories?
[She hands him the licence. He stares at it, utterly astonished.
Freddie.
Where did you find this?
Nellie.
It was lying on the writing-table. I suppose you’re not going to deny all knowledge of it. [He stares at it still.] Freddie, how bold of you! But you really couldn’t imagine for a moment that I’d consent to run away with you. Oh, Freddie, I’m so flattered. How you must love me!
Freddie.
[To himself.] Two thousand a year! [He takes the cheque from his pocket and looks at it. Suddenly light dawns on him. He puts cheque and licence back into his pocket.] It’s fairly clear that a licence couldn’t have got there by itself.