Penelope.
Not much.
Dickie.
[Beginning to be rather perplexed.] But, Pen dear, pull yourself together. I love you just as much as you love me.
Penelope.
[With a little smile.] But what makes you think I love you?
Dickie.
[Aghast.] You—you don’t mean to say that you don’t care for me any more?
Penelope.
[Judicially.] I—no longer feel that the world is coming to an end when you go out of the room.