With all the holiday/SCOTUS resignation/lunatic bombing mayhem of the past week, I’d missed the sad news that screenwriter Ernest Lehman died on July 2. After the jump is one of my favorite scenes from him, from one of my favorite films: North By Northwest.

INT. DINING CAR

As Thornhill (Cary Grant) enters from the next car, the STEWARD approaches him.

STEWARD
Good evening, sir. One?

THORNHILL
Please.

The Steward leads him into the dining area. It is fairly crowded. The GIRL (Eva Marie Saint) is there, seated alone at a table for two. She is on dessert and coffee. Without a word, the steward leads Thornhill directly to her table and pulls out the chair for him. The girl looks up at Thornhill, smiles fleetingly. He returns the smile and sits down.

STEWARD
Cocktail before dinner?

THORNHILL
How about a Gibson?

STEWARD
Right away.

He goes off. Thornhill takes up the menu, studies it. The girl raises her eyes, studies him. He looks up, catches her glance. She quickly looks down. He glances down at the menu again, then looks up at her. She glances up, catches him, and he looks away. Now she looks away. Then they both look up at each other at the same time and meet head on. They smile.

THORNHILL
Well — here we are again.

GIRL
Yes.

THORNHILL
(looking down at menu)
Recommend anything?

GIRL
The brook trout. A little "trouty� but quite good.

THORNHILL
Sold.

He writes out the order. A waiter brings his Gibson, takes the order and leaves. Thornhill glances about the dining car nervously, sees (or perhaps imagines he sees) several people staring at him. When he looks back at the girl, he finds that she is scrutinizing him.

THORNHILL
I know. I look vaguely familiar to you.

GIRL
Yes.

THORNHILL
You feel you've seen me somewhere before.

GIRL
Yes.

THORNHILL
Funny how I have that effect on people wherever I go. Something about my face...

GIRL
It's a nice face.

THORNHILL
You really think so?

GIRL
I would never say it if I didn't.

THORNHILL
Oh — you're that type.

GIRL
What type?

THORNHILL
Honest.

GIRL
Not really.

THORNHILL
Good. Honest women frighten me.

GIRL
Why?

THORNHILL
I feel at a disadvantage with them.

GIRL
Because you're not honest with them?

THORNHILL
Exactly.

GIRL
Like that business about the seven parking tickets...

THORNHILL
(stepping delicately past it)
What I mean is: the moment I meet an attractive girl, I have to start pretending that I've no desire to make love to her.

GIRL
What makes you think you have to conceal it?

THORNHILL
She might find the idea objectionable.

GIRL
And then again, she might not.

THORNHILL
Think how lucky I am to have been seated here.

GIRL
Luck had nothing to do with it.

THORNHILL
Fate?

GIRL
I tipped the steward five dollars to seat you here if you should come in.

Thornhill looks at her for a long moment.

THORNHILL
Is that a proposition?

She looks right back at him for an equally long moment.

GIRL
I never make love on an empty stomach.

THORNHILL
You've already eaten.

GIRL
But you haven't.

They continue to gaze at each other, and then the waiter brings dinner and sets it on the table. Thornhill goes to work on it.

THORNHILL
Don't you think it's time we were introduced?

GIRL
I'm Eve Kendall. Twenty-six and unmarried. Now you know everything.

THORNHILL
What do you do besides lure men to their doom on the New York Central?

EVE
I'm an industrial designer.

THORNHILL
Jack Phillips. Western sales manager of Kingsby Electronics.

EVE
(easily)
No you're not. You're Roger Thornhill of Madison Avenue and you're wanted for murder on every front page in America. Don't be so modest.

THORNHILL
Oops.

EVE
Don't worry. I won't say a word.

THORNHILL
How come?

EVE
I told you — it's a nice face.

THORNHILL
Is that the only reason?

EVE
(shrugs)
It's going to be a long night...

THORNHILL
(nods)
True.

EVE
And I don't particularly like the book I've started...

THORNHILL
Ah.

EVE
You know what I mean?

THORNHILL
Oh — exactly.

Eve puts a cigarette between her lips, looks quite boldly into Thornhill's eyes as he takes a folder of matches from his pocket. She notices the match folder, takes it from him and examines it. (WE WILL SEE IT IN AN INSERT.) On each side of the folder, three large letters: R O T.

THORNHILL
(explaining)
My trademark — rot.

EVE
Roger O. Thornhill. What's the O. for?

THORNHILL
Nothing.

He strikes a match to light her cigarette. (Meanwhile, the train has been slowing down as it approaches a station.) She takes his hand in hers and guides the flame to her cigarette, her hands lingering on his with an unmistakable intimacy that he finds downright delightful.

THORNHILL
I'd invite you to my bedroom if I had a bedroom.

EVE
Roomette?

THORNHILL
Nothing — not even a ticket. I've been playing hide-and-seek with the pullman conductor ever since we left New York.

EVE
How awkward for you.

THORNHILL
No place to sleep.

EVE
I've got a large drawing room all to myself.

THORNHILL
That's not fair, is it?

EVE
Drawing room E, car thirty-nine-oh-one.

THORNHILL
Such a nice number.

EVE
Easy to remember.

THORNHILL
Thirty-nine-oh-one.

EVE
See?

THORNHILL
I have no luggage.

EVE
(looking out of the window)
So?

THORNHILL
You wouldn't happen to have an extra pair of pajamas, would you?

She looks him right in the eye.

EVE
Wouldn't I?

She puts money on her tab and gets to her feet, as Thornhill stares up at her, slightly awed. The train comes to a stop.

EVE
Incidentally, I wouldn't order any dessert if I were you.

THORNHILL
I get the message.

EVE
That wasn't quite what I meant. The train seems to be making an unscheduled stop, and I just saw two men getting out of a police car as we pulled into the station. They weren't smiling.

She walks away, and Thornhill looks out of the window. TWO DETECTIVES are seen hurrying along the platform to board the train. Thornhill puts some money on the table, gets to his feet and saunters out of the car in the direction Eve has taken. CAMERA PANS QUICKLY to the other end of the car, picks up the two detectives entering the dining area and looking about. The steward walks up to them as the train starts moving again.