Now, mind, Uncle Davenport, no pranks.
Barlow.
My dear, I’m not only the soul of honour, but fifty-two.
[Exit.
Penelope.
[As he goes out.] I suppose that does induce a platonic state of mind.
Dickie.
[With a sigh of relief.] Ouf!
[Penelope turns to a glass to arrange her hat. Dickie watches her with a smile.
Well?