Mr. Posket.
Ah, of course, it’s all right now.
Isidore.
Very good, then you give me five shillings for doubting me. Do it; do it.
Mr. Posket.
[In a daze, giving him the five shillings.] Like this?
Isidore.
Yes, like that. [Slipping the money into his pocket.] I beg your pardon—thank you. [Handing Cis the rest of the change.] Your change, Mr. Farringdon.
Cis.