You don’t want me by any chance to tell Ada Fergusson that you don’t care for her any more?
Dickie.
It’s a devilish awkward thing to say oneself.
Penelope.
I can imagine that the best-tempered woman would take it a little amiss.
Dickie.
I say, can’t you suggest something to help me out?
Penelope.
[With a shrug of the shoulders.] My dear, since the days of Ariadne there’s only been one satisfactory way of consoling a deserted maiden.
Dickie.