[Indignantly.] Of course I mean it. I’m never going to speak to him again. That’s to say, I shall have a scene with him first. I’m quite determined to have a scene with somebody.

Golightly.

And where is Dickie now?

Penelope.

He’s on his way home with the usual story. [With a sudden break in her voice.] Oh, if you only knew how utterably miserable I am.

Mrs. Golightly.

My darling, is it really serious?

Penelope.

[Desperately.] Oh, what can I do to make you all understand?

Golightly.

The best way would be to begin at the beginning, and tell us all about it coherently.

Barlow.

[Pompously.] My dear Charles, this is not the kind of matter in which you can be of any use. You’re a mathematician, and you’re not expected to know anything about practical affairs.

Golightly.

[Faintly ironic.] I apologise profusely.

Mrs. Golightly.

[To Penelope, to ask her to speak.] Darling?

Penelope.

Well, the first thing is that I simply dote upon Dickie. I’ve never loved any one else, and I never shall.

Beadsworth.

That’s a very satisfactory confession after four years of matrimony.

Penelope.

Five years, three months, and two days. And every day I’ve loved Dickie more.

Beadsworth.

I’ve never seen a more devoted couple.

Penelope.

We’ve never had a quarrel. We’ve never even been cross with one another. It’s been a honeymoon that’s never come to an end.

Mrs. Golightly.

Well?

Penelope.

And now I’ve discovered that he’s been lying to me for the last month. He’s been coming home dreadfully late, and when I’ve asked him where he’s been, he’s said that he had to see a patient who was very ill—such an interesting case—and it worried him so much that he was obliged to go to his club and have a rubber to settle his nerves. And the interesting case and the rubber of bridge are Ada Fergusson.

Barlow.

[Pompously.] But who is Ada Fergusson? I’ve never heard of her.

Penelope.

Ada Fergusson’s a great friend of mine. And I hate her. I always knew she was a cat. For the last four weeks Dickie’s been spending every afternoon with her from four till seven.

Golightly.

[Raising his eyebrows.] But do you always ask your husband where he’s been when he comes in?

Penelope.

[Impatiently.] My dear papa, what has that got to do with it? We all know that you’re an old dear, and the greatest mathematician in the world, but you know nothing about life at all.

Golightly.

I apologise again.

Mrs. Golightly.

Give him a sheet of paper and a pencil, Penelope, and he’ll amuse himself by doing sums while we talk the matter out.

Penelope.

[Pushing writing materials over to him.] There you are, papa.

Beadsworth.

But how did you find