Dickie.

Because I forbid you to.

Penelope.

[Smiling.] And are you under the delusion that at your command I shall fall flat on my face?

Dickie.

I’m the master of this house, and I mean to make myself respected.

Penelope.

My dear, since you pay the rent and the taxes it’s quite right that you should rule this house with a rod of iron if you wish it. Personally, at the moment I only want to get out of it.

Dickie.

You’re not going out of it.