The Magistrate: A Farce in Three Acts

by Arthur Wing Pinero

Here she is.

Agatha Posket.

Charlotte?

Charlotte, a fine handsome girl, enters, followed by Popham with hand luggage.

Agatha Posket.

[Kissing her.] My dear Charley.

[Wyke goes out.

Charlotte.

Aggy darling, aren’t I late! There’s a fog on the line—you could cut it with a knife. [Seeing Cis.] Is that your boy?

Agatha Posket.