Charles, you’re asking Penelope to connive at immorality.
Golightly.
When every difficulty disappears, Dickie will find half the savour of the intrigue gone. Half your battle is won. Leave the rest to time and Ada Fergusson. Let Ada Fergusson sit on the arm of his chair when he wants to read his paper. Let him account to Ada Fergusson for all his movements. Under such circumstances a woman is always on tenterhooks, and consequently she’s always exacting. Whenever there’s a pause in the conversation, Ada Fergusson will say, Do you care for me as much as ever you did? That speech is the rope around love’s throat. Whenever he wants to go away, Ada Fergusson will implore him to stay five minutes longer. Those five minutes that a man stays against his will are the nails in love’s coffin. Each time he leaves her Ada Fergusson will say, At what time will you be back? That question is the earth shovelled into love’s grave.
[All this while Penelope has been staring at Golightly with astonishment.
Penelope.
Where did you learn all this, father?
Golightly.
[With a deprecating shrug.] It’s a mere matter of adding two and two together, my darling.
Penelope.
I had no idea that mathematics were so interesting—nor so immoral.