This is for you, Charley—already.
[Wyke goes out.
Charlotte.
Spare my blushes, dear—it’s from Horace, Captain Vale. The dear wretch knew I was coming to you. Heigho! Will you excuse me?
Mr. Posket.
Certainly.
Agatha Posket.
Excuse me, please?
Charlotte.
Certainly, my dear.