[Good-humouredly.] It’s monstrous of you to reproach me, Charles, when you have conducted for years a harem of algebraical symbols.
Penelope.
[Lifting up her hands in mock horror.] And to think that I never knew how immoral my parents were!
Golightly.
[Patting his wife’s hand.] I think we must be the lucky ones, dear. We’ve been married for twenty years....
Penelope.
[Interrupting.] Make it a quarter of a century, father. I really can’t pass for less than twenty-four.
Golightly.
[To his wife.] And we seem to have got on pretty well, don’t we?
Mrs. Golightly.