AGATHA POSKET. I should have to take such a back seat for the rest of my married life. [_The party at the card-table breaks up._ MR. BULLAMY. [_Grumpily._] No, thank you, not another minute. [_To MR. POSKET._] What is the use of talking about revenge, my dear Posket, when I haven't a penny piece left to play with? MR. POSKET. I'm in the same predicament! Cis will lend us some money, won't you, Cis? CIS. Rather! MR. BULLAMY. No, thank ye, that boy is one too many for me. I've never met such a child. Good-night, Mrs. Posket. [_Treads on a nut._] Confound the nuts! AGATHA POSKET. Going so early? CIS. [_To MR. POSKET._] I hate a bad loser, don't you Guv? AGATHA POSKET. Show Mr. Bullamy down stairs, Cis. MR. BULLAMY. Good-night, Posket. Oh! I haven't a shilling left for my cabman. CIS. I'll pay the cab. MR. BULLAMY. No, thank you! I'll walk. [_Opening jujube box._] Bah! Not even a jujube left and on a foggy night, too! Ugh! [_Goes out._ _Enter WYKE with four letters on salver._ CIS. [_To WYKE._] Any for me? WYKE. One, sir. CIS. [_To himself._] From Achille Blond; lucky the mater didn't see it. [_Goes out._ [_WYKE hands letters to AGATHA POSKET, who takes two, then to MR. POSKET, who takes one._ AGATHA POSKET. This is for you, Charley--already. [_WYKE goes out._ CHARLOTTE. Spare my blushes, dear--it's from Horace, Captain Vale. The dear wretch knew I was coming to you. Heigho! Will you excuse me? MR. POSKET. Certainly. AGATHA POSKET. Excuse me, please? CHARLOTTE. Certainly, my dear. MR. POSKET. Certainly, my darling. Excuse me, won't you? CHARLOTTE. Oh, certainly. AGATHA POSKET. Certainly, Æneas. [_Simultaneously they all open their letters, and lean back and read._ AGATHA POSKET. [_Reading._] Lady Jenkins is not feeling very well. CHARLOTTE. If Captain Horace Vale stood before me at this moment, I'd slap his face! AGATHA POSKET. Charlotte! CHARLOTTE. [_Reading._] "Dear Miss Verrinder,--Your desperate flirtation with Major Bristow at the Meet on Tuesday last, three days after our engagement, has just come to my knowledge. Your letters and gifts, including the gold-headed hair-pin given me at the Hunt Ball, shall be returned to-morrow. By Jove, all is over! Horace Vale." Oh, dear! AGATHA POSKET. Oh, Charley, I'm so sorry! However, you can deny it. CHARLOTTE. [_Weeping._] That's the worst of it, I can't. MR. POSKET. [_To AGATHA POSKET._] My darling, you will be delighted. A note from Colonel Lukyn. AGATHA POSKET. Lukyn--Lukyn? I seem to know the name. MR. POSKET. An old schoolfellow of mine who went to India many years ago. He has just come home. I met him at the club last night and asked him to name an evening to dine with us. He accepts for to-morrow. AGATHA POSKET. Lukyn, Lukyn? MR. POSKET.