He’s got such a pleasant bedside manner.
Dickie.
You’ve never seen my bedside manner. [Looking at his hands.] I say, I must just go and wash my hands, they’re covered with Picric Acid.
[Exit.
Penelope.
Where’s mother? Converting the heathen?
Golightly.
From the safe distance of the Albert Hall.
Penelope.
[With a change of manner.] I’m glad you came alone.