Wyke.
Rather. What do you think he made me a present of last night?
Lugg.
Don’t know.
Wyke.
Twopence—to buy a new umbrella.
Lugg.
Well, I’m blessed! And he gave me the same sum to get him a silk necktie. It’s my opinion he’s got a softening of the brain. [Another shriek from the two women, a cry from Mr. Posket, and then a hubbub are heard. Running up to the curtains and looking through.] Hallo! what’s wrong? Here! I told you so—he’s broken out, he’s broken out.
Wyke.