(digs in his pocket)
Before I forget, I went by the garage
this afternoon and picket up the
Ferrari. Thanks for the loaner again.
He hands Kimble a valet ticket.
They fix it this time?
They reach the Woman Kimble saw, his wife, HELEN KIMBLE.
Kimble kisses her.
You look fabulous, Helen.
He kisses Helen.
We've got a court tomorrow at three.
Nichols leaves. Kimble looks at his wife.
Well, I've seen everyone, can we
That would be a little abrupt, don't
ANGLE - KIMBLE'S TABLE - NIGHT
A table for ten. Kimble and Helen introduce themselves to
others at table ant sit across from each other.
Kimble sits between two doctors' wives. One, NOW EAU WIFE,
mid-thirties, bedecked in jewels and loud dress, the other
Helen sits between their husbands who are trying to impress
her with the details of their boring studies as CREDITS
INTERCUTTING WITH the fashion, catches of dialog and course
changes, Kimble and Helen demonstrate an oft-used exchange
Kimble, while gracious to his dinner partners,
catches Helen's eye and makes smiling, subtle movements to
his watch or a look to the door to indicate he's clearly
ready to leave. On the receiving end, Helen, the gatekeeper
of their social propriety, indicates with equal subtlety:
As we MOVE AROUND the table we hear:
"Where's your husband on staff?" "My husband's an orthopod
at Northwestern." "I'm working on a new technique..."
"That's fascinating..." "That's quite a marvelous dress
you're wearing." "Do you like it? My husband says it's a
'four-fracture number."' "Honey." (A look from her husband.)