Penelope.
Well, you’ll be able to charge at least a hundred and fifty pounds for taking her to Paris.
Dickie.
[With a start.] Pen!
Penelope.
Oh, you made me jump.
Dickie.
You’re not proposing to buy anything more?
Penelope.
Well, darling, I know that when I get up to-morrow morning and you’re not here, I shall feel dreadfully lonely and depressed.