Mrs. Golightly.
My dear, I highly disapprove of your father’s idea, and I can’t imagine how it ever came into his head, but I’m bound to say I think there’s some sense in it.
Penelope.
[Making up her mind.] I’ll try. Remember, no one knows anything that has happened. You’ll back me up, mamma, won’t you?
Mrs. Golightly.
You’re not going to ask me to tell a pack of lies, darling?
Penelope.
Only white ones, mother. If there’s a whopper to tell, I’ll tell it myself.
Beadsworth.
But what about Barlow?