I walk quicker than the cab, ma'am. It's a good horse, slow, but very certain. AGATHA POSKET. We will come down. WYKE. [_To himself._] Just what the horse has done. [_To AGATHA POSKET._] Yes, ma'am. [_WYKE goes out._ AGATHA POSKET. Good-night, Æneas. MR. POSKET. [_Nervously._] I wish you would allow me to go to the club, my pet. AGATHA POSKET. Æneas, I am surprised at your obstinacy. It is so very different from my first husband. MR. POSKET. Really, Agatha, I am shocked. I presume the late Mr. Farringdon occasionally used his clubs. AGATHA POSKET. Indian clubs. Indian clubs are good for the liver, London clubs are not. Good-night! MR. POSKET. I'll see you to your cab, Agatha. AGATHA POSKET. No, thank you. MR. POSKET. Upon my word! CHARLOTTE. [_To AGATHA POSKET._] Why not? AGATHA POSKET. He would want to give the direction to the cabman! CHARLOTTE. The first tiff. [_To MR. POSKET._] Good-night, Mr. Posket. MR. POSKET. Good-night, Miss Verrinder. AGATHA POSKET. [_To MR. POSKET._] Have you any message for Lady Jenkins? MR. POSKET. Confound Lady Jenkins. AGATHA POSKET. I will deliver your message in the presence of Sir George, who, I may remind you, is the permanent Secretary at the Home Office. [_AGATHA POSKET and CHARLOTTE go out; MR. POSKET paces up and down excitedly._ MR. POSKET. Gurrh? I'm not to go to the club! I set a bad example to Cis! Ha! ha! I am different from her first husband. Yes, I am--I'm alive for one thing. I--I--I--I--I'm dashed if I don't go out with the boy. CIS. [_Putting his head in at the door._] Coast clear, Guv? All right. _Enter CIS, in fashionable evening dress, carrying MR. POSKET'S overcoat and hat._ CIS. Here are your hat and overcoat. MR. POSKET. Where on earth did you get that dress suit? CIS. Mum's the word, Guv. Brighton tailor--six months' credit. He promised to send in the bill to you, so the mater won't know. [_Putting MR. POSKET'S hat on his head._] By Jove, Guv, don't my togs show you up? MR. POSKET. I won't go, I won't go. I've never met such a boy before. CIS. [_Proceeds to help him with his overcoat._] Mind your arm, Guv. You've got your hand in a pocket. No, no--that's a tear in the lining. That's it. MR. POSKET. I forbid you to go out! CIS. Yes, Guv. And I forbid you to eat any of those devilled oysters we shall get at the Hotel des Princes. Now you're right! MR. POSKET. I am not right! CIS. Oh, I forgot! [_He pulls out a handful of loose money._] I found this money in your desk, Guv. You had better take it out with you; you may want it. Here you are--gold, silver, and coppers. [_He empties the money into MR. POSKET'S overcoat pocket._] One last precaution, and then we're off. [_Goes to the writing-table, and writes on a half-sheet of note-paper._ MR. POSKET.