Penelope.
[Sitting down.] Very well. Talk.
Dickie.
You can send for the tea if you like.
Penelope.
No; I’ll let it stand and ruin my digestion.
Dickie.
[Taking papers out of his pocket and giving them to Penelope.] D’you know what these are?
Penelope.
[With a charming smile.] Bills, darling?