Charlie. He hathn’t the money.
Reg. (glancing scornfully at Charlie). You’ll oblige me gweatly by minding your own affairs. Done, Mr. Stuart.
Enter Fred b. d.
Stuart. Ah, Fred, you’ve just missed a rare bit of sport.
Fred. What was that?
Stuart. Why, we’ve just wagered—
Reg. (dignified). I beg pawdon, Mr. Stuart, but I had always supposed a wager was a confidential mattah.
[Walks with dignity up r. and exits b. d.
Charlie. For onth in hith life, Van Tromp ith right.
[Bows grandly and goes up l. Exits b. d.