Barlow.
Lucky dog, I wish I were going to Paris with her.
Dickie.
[Fervently.] I wish you were.
Barlow.
Ha, ha. Well, well, I must be running away. I’m dining out as usual. These good duchesses, they will not leave me alone. Good-bye.
[He goes out. Dickie walks up and down the room thinking. In a moment Penelope puts her head in.
Penelope.
I say, darling, oughtn’t you to be packing?
Dickie.