Well, papa. [She puts her face up for him to kiss.]
Mrs. Golightly.
[Anxiously.] Now, Penelope.
Penelope.
Oh, Mr. Beadsworth, how nice of you to come. [She shakes hands with him.] Kiss me, Uncle Davenport. [She calmly puts up her face. With some irritation he kisses her.]
Penelope.
Thank you.... Was your whisky and soda quite right? [Looking round.] And the port? Father, you haven’t touched the barley-water. You ungrateful old thing!
Mrs. Golightly.
[Exasperated.] My dear, for goodness’ sake explain.
Barlow.