JOHN. What a funny question to ask anyone! I slept at home—in there—of course . . . obviously . . . naturally.
PAMELA. Whenever you adopt that innocent attitude I always know you are telling me a wilful lie.
JOHN. I couldn’t tell you a lie if I tried. Do you remember that phrenologist we went to at Eastbourne? He told me I had an enormous bump of veracity.
PAMELA. This is nothing to do with phrenology. Am I to believe that you slept at home last night?
JOHN (guiltily). Y—yes, of course. Why?
PAMELA. I slept at home, too. Strange we didn’t meet.
JOHN. Yes, that is funny.
PAMELA. I locked that bedroom door from half-past eleven last night until nine o’clock this morning.
JOHN. Well, if you lock the bedroom door, how can you possibly expect me to sleep at home? Absurd! (Getting into jacket.) No, I’ll tell you the whole facts of the case, Pam. We went to the—er—opera last night.
PAMELA. We?