Penelope.
Uncle Davenport, if you say a word against him, I will immediately have an attack of hysterics.
Barlow.
What you expect your father to be able to tell you I can’t imagine.
Golightly.
[Smiling.] Out of the mouth of babes and sucklings, Davenport....
Barlow.
I shouldn’t have thought one could describe you as either. But, in any case, I can stay no longer.
Penelope.
Oh, no, don’t go yet, Uncle Davenport.