Agatha Posket.
[To Mr. Posket.] Let—let me see the letter, I—I may recognise the handwriting.
Mr. Posket.
[Handing her the letter.] Certainly, my pet. [To himself.] Awakened memories of Number One. That’s the worst of marrying a widow; somebody is always proving her previous convictions.
Agatha Posket.
[To Charlotte.] “No. 19a, Cork Street!” Charley, put on your things and come with me.
Charlotte.
Agatha, you’re mad!
Agatha Posket.