Who's this walking into the bar now, with a neatly folded New York Times under one arm? Why it's Leo, down from the big city! He's put on his old 'bar' clothes, but his habitual Manhattan urbanity still gives him the vague look of having come straight from an afternoon's boating with Jay Gatsby. He's ever so slightly overdoing the back-slapping bonhomie.
Mrs. Leo looks around uncertainly, unable - despite her breeding - to suppress a shiver of distaste. Her dear husband has brought her here with talk of a 'pub', but the Hare & Hounds this most certainly is not. They had better at least have a decent dry sherry, or there will be Words.