Mr. Posket.
My dear Wormington!
Mr. Wormington.
I happen to be wearing something similar—the first time for five-and-twenty years.
Mr. Posket.
Oh, I beg your pardon. [To himself.] Everything seems against me.
Lugg.
One-and-nine it come to, sir. [Producing the paper packet of money and laying it upon the table.] And I brought back all the money you gave me, thinking you’d like to look over it quietly. Really, sir, I never showed up smaller in any shop in all my life!
Mr. Posket.
Upon my word. First one and then another! What is wrong with the money. [Opens the packet.] Twopence! [To himself.] That man Wyke will tell all to Agatha! Oh, everything is against me.