Agatha Posket.
There are no plates.
Lukyn.
No plates? No plates? It’s my fault. Pardon me. Where are the plates?
[Vale, still invisible, stretches out his hand through the curtain, takes up the plates and presents them to Lukyn, who recoils.
Vale.
[In a whisper.] Here are the plates. Look sharp, Lukyn.
Lukyn.
Vale! safe and sound! [He takes the plates, then grasps Vale’s extended hand.] Bless you, old fellow. I’m myself again. [Going gaily to the table with the plates.] My dear ladies, I blush—I positively blush—I am the worst host in the world.