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She lost her first husband about twelve months ago in India. He was an army contractor.
BEATIE.
[_To CIS at the piano._] I must go now--there's no excuse for staying any longer.
CIS.
[_To her disconsolately._] What the deuce shall _I_ do?
MR. POSKET.
[_Pouring out milk._] Dear me, this milk seems very poor. When he died, she came to England, placed her boy at a school in Brighton, and then moved about quietly from place to place, drinking----
[_Sips tea._
MR. BULLAMY.
Drinking?
MR. POSKET.
The waters--she's a little dyspeptic. [_WYKE goes out._] We encountered each other at the _Tours des Fontaines_--by accident I trod upon her dress----
BEATIE.
Good-night, Cis dear.
CIS.
Oh!
MR. POSKET.
[_Continuing to MR. BULLAMY._] I apologised. We talked about the weather, we drank out of the same gla.s.s, discovered that we both suffered from the same ailment, and the result is complete happiness.
[_He bends over AGATHA POSKET gallantly._
AGATHA POSKET.
aeneas!
[_He kisses her, then CIS kisses BEATIE, loudly; MR. POSKET and MR.
BULLAMY both listen puzzled._
MR. POSKET.
Echo?
MR. BULLAMY.
Suppose so!
[_He kisses the back of his hand experimentally; BEATIE kisses CIS._
MR. BULLAMY.
Yes.
MR. POSKET.
Curious. [_To MR. BULLAMY._] Romantic story, isn't it?
BEATIE.
Good-night, Mrs. Posket! I shall be here early to-morrow morning.
AGATHA POSKET.
I am afraid you are neglecting your other pupils.
BEATIE.
Oh, they're not so interesting as Cis--[_correcting herself_] Master Farringdon. Good-night.
AGATHA POSKET.
Good-night, dear.
[_BEATIE goes out quietly; AGATHA POSKET joins CIS._
MR. POSKET.
[_To MR. BULLAMY._] We were married abroad without consulting friends or relations on either side. That's how it is I have never seen my sister-in-law, Miss Verrinder, who is coming from Shropshire to stay with us--she ought to----
_WYKE enters._
WYKE.
Miss Verrinder has come, ma'am.
MR. POSKET.
Here she is.
AGATHA POSKET.
Charlotte?
