Penelope: A Comedy in Three Acts

by W. Somerset Maugham

Mrs. Fergusson.

Solly says I must send him a cheque for a hundred and eighty pounds.

[Dickie gives a slight start, and his face falls.

Mrs. Fergusson.

And it’s just a little awkward for me to pay that just now. You see my income is always paid me half-yearly, and I really haven’t got a hundred and eighty pounds in the bank. I never borrow—it’s a thing I can’t bear—and I felt the only person I could come to now was you.

Dickie.

I’m sure that’s awfully nice of you, not to say flattering.

Mrs. Fergusson.

I knew you’d give it me at once, and, of course, I’ll pay you back out of my profits.