Would you like to eat strawberry ice for breakfast, lunch, tea, and dinner every day for a month?
Penelope.
Good heavens! the thought fills me with horror.
Golightly.
Poor Dickie has lived on strawberry ice for five years. It’s been his only means of sustenance.
Penelope.
[With consternation.] Oh!
Golightly.
You’ve never let him go out without coming into the hall to put on his hat and kiss him good-bye; he’s never come into the house without you running down to help him off with his coat and kiss him welcome. When he sat down after breakfast in the morning to read his paper and smoke his pipe, I’ve seen you sit down on the arm of his chair and put your arm round his neck.
Barlow.