Dickie.
Not nearly.
Penelope.
Then I’m afraid you must go on another time. I’ve got a taxi at the door, and it’s costing twopence a minute.
Dickie.
[Stepping back.] What d’you want a taxi for?
Penelope.
[With a laugh.] I thought that would chill your ardour.
Dickie.
You’re not going on that beastly motor trip now?