Chapter III: Part 3

[_She runs lightly into the bedroom, snatches a pillow from the bed, and returns to him._

QUEX.

[_His hand upon the cork._] What is that for?

DUCHESS.

[_Enveloping his hand and the bottle in the pillow--calmly._] It is wiser to muffle it.

[_He pauses, looking at her fixedly._

QUEX.

[_In a low, grave voice._] Dolly--

DUCHESS.

Dolly! [_Closing her eyes._] You give me my pet name again!

QUEX.

Ah, Dolly, if only there wasn't quite so much in one's life--to muffle! [_He pulls the cork. She tosses the pillow on to the settee, a little irritably._] May I--?

[_She inclines her head. He pours wine into the glasses; she takes the champagne glass, he the tumbler._

DUCHESS.

[_Sentimentally._] Félix Poubelle, Carte d'Or! [_Looking at him over the brim of her glass._] _Eh bien! au joyeux passé!_

QUEX.

_Non, non--à un avenir meilleur!_

DUCHESS.

_Que vous êtes prosaïque! soit!_ [_They drink. She sits, with a sigh of dissatisfaction._] Ah!

QUEX.

[_Leaning against the table, drinking his wine._] Wonderful wine--really exceptional. [_Struck by a thought, turning to her._] Forgive me--you must have found some difficulty in introducing Monsieur Félix Poubelle into this hallowed apartment.

DUCHESS.

No. [_Sipping her wine._] My maid thinks it is by my doctor's orders.

QUEX.

Your maid, yes--[_sipping his wine; then sitting upon the settee, glass in hand_] but my poor aunt must be highly scandalised.

DUCHESS.

[_Her glass at her lips._] Dear Lady Owbridge will not know. I told the girl to coax it out of the butler, as if it were for herself. These women have a way of doing such things.

QUEX.

[_Laughing rather sadly._] Ha, ha, ha! who is beyond temptation? Not even old Bristow--sixty if he's a day.

DUCHESS.

[_Shrugging her shoulders._] Sixty or sixteen--when a girl is fascinating--

QUEX.

Fascinating! your woman, Watson!

DUCHESS.

No, no--Watson has left me for a few hours. I am speaking of Sophy.

[_There is a brief silence._ QUEX, _surprised in the act of drinking, lowers his glass slowly._

QUEX.

[_In a queer voice._] Sophy?

DUCHESS.

Miss Fullgarney, the manicurist. She was so good as to offer to take Watson's place for to-night.

QUEX.

[_Looking steadily before him._] Oh?

[_There is another pause. The_ DUCHESS _puts down her glass and, with her foot, pushes the footstool towards_ QUEX.

DUCHESS.

[_Sliding from her chair on to the footstool._] Oh, Harry, the bitterness of this final meeting! the dull agony of it!

[_He gets rid of his tumbler and touches her arm._

QUEX.

[_Quietly._] Duchess--

DUCHESS.

[_Surprised._] Eh?

QUEX.

I am sorry to alarm you, but this girl--Miss Eden's foster-sister--

DUCHESS.

What about her?

QUEX.

She's a cat.

DUCHESS.

Cat!

QUEX.

[_Gathering his ideas as he proceeds._] A common hussy, not above playing tricks--spying--

DUCHESS.

Spying!

QUEX.

I caught her behind the hedge this evening, in the Italian garden, after you and I had been talking together.

DUCHESS.

Behind the hedge!

QUEX.

She had previously done her best to make an ass of me, while you were dressing for dinner--! [_Looking towards the passage-door._] Where do you say her room is?

DUCHESS.

At the end of that passage. [_They rise together, with very little movement._] Oh, but she is in bed, and asleep!

QUEX.

_Is_ she?

DUCHESS.

Harry!

QUEX.

Wait--! [_He goes to the door, and examines the key-hole. Then he turns to the_ DUCHESS _and beckons to her. She joins him. He says, in a whisper, pointing to the key-hole._] Do you notice--?

DUCHESS.

What?

QUEX.

The key is in the lock horizontally.

DUCHESS.

She may have been peeping at us? [_He nods. She is sick at the thought._] How inexcusably careless of me!

QUEX.

[_At her elbow._] Listen. I'll keep out of sight. Open the door boldly and walk along the passage. See if there is any sign of movement--

DUCHESS.

Yes, yes. [_Steadying herself._] Perhaps we are disturbing ourselves unnecessarily.

QUEX.

[_Nodding reassuringly._] Perhaps so.

[_He draws back into the bedroom, but so that he can put his head out at the opening, and watch the_ DUCHESS'S _proceedings. She goes to the door and lays her hand upon the key._

DUCHESS.

[_Faltering._] Oh! oh, great heavens!

QUEX.

[_Encouragingly._] It's all right--it's all right. Very likely I am mistaken. Now!

[_The_ DUCHESS _opens the door suddenly, and_ SOPHY, _who is kneeling at the key-hole, lurches forward._

DUCHESS.

Ah!

[SOPHY, _enveloped in the Mandarin's robe, gathers herself up and, without a word, flies away along the passage. The_ DUCHESS _shuts the door and walks unsteadily to the settee._ QUEX _comes down, his mouth set hard._

QUEX.

I was sure of it.

DUCHESS.

[_Aghast._] What will she do? will she tell?

QUEX.

Yes--she'll tell.

DUCHESS.

Why do you speak so positively?

QUEX.

She is in Miss Eden's confidence--the trull. And she has always shown her teeth at me, now I remember. [_Drawing a deep breath._] Oh, yes, I see--Miss Fullgarney has meant mischief throughout.

DUCHESS.

[_Sinking upon the settee._] Oh!

QUEX.

[_Quietly._] Well--_I'm done_.

DUCHESS.

Oh, my reputation!

QUEX.

I'm--done.

DUCHESS.

My reputation! I have never ceased to guard that, as you know.

QUEX.

I've lost her.

DUCHESS.

My reputation!

QUEX.

Of course, I deserve it. But--

[_He sits, his head bowed._

DUCHESS.

[_Looking up._] To think--to think that I allowed this plausible creature to thrust herself upon me! [_He raises his head, glaring fiercely. She beats the pillow._] Oh! oh! my reputation in the hands of this low creature!

QUEX.

Ah--! [_With a half-smothered cry he goes to the door and pulls it open. The_ DUCHESS _runs after him and seizes his arm_.] I said I'd wring her damned neck--I told Frayne so.

DUCHESS.

[_Pushing him away from the door._] Don't! don't! violence will not help us. [_She closes the door; he stands clutching the chair by the writing-table. The clock strikes twelve._] Midnight. [_Leaning upon a chair._] At any rate, you had better go now.

QUEX.

[_Turning to her._] I beg your pardon; I regret having lost control of myself.

DUCHESS.

[_Miserably._] It has been a wretchedly disappointing meeting.

QUEX.

[_Heavily._] Let us see each other in the morning. [_She nods._] Be walking in the grounds by nine.

DUCHESS.

Yes. [_Rallying._] After all, Harry, there may be nothing behind this woman's behaviour. It may have been only the vulgarest curiosity on her part.

QUEX.

[_Incredulously._] Ha! However, in that case--

DUCHESS.

Money.

QUEX.

Money.

DUCHESS.

I ought to sound her directly she presents herself at my bedside, ought I not?

QUEX.

Earlier--before she has had time to get about the house. Stand at nothing. If she's to be bought, she shall have whatever she demands--any sum!

DUCHESS.

How liberal of you!

[QUEX _walks towards the door, then turns to her._

QUEX.

One thing I hope I need hardly say, Duchess?

DUCHESS.

What--?

QUEX.

[_With dignity._] Worst come to the worst, I shall defend you by every means in my power. _I'm_ done, I feel sure; [_drawing himself up_] but, of course, I shall lie for you like the devil.

DUCHESS.

[_Plaintively._] Thanks. And I have dragged you into it all.

QUEX.

Tsch! [_Bowing stiffly._] Good-night.

DUCHESS.

Good-night. [_She goes to the table and prepares to remove the tray. Having turned the key of the door,_ QUEX _pauses. She says fretfully._] Oh, why don't you go, Harry?

QUEX.

[_Facing her sharply, a new light in his eyes._] No! _you_ go.

DUCHESS.

[_In astonishment._] I!

QUEX.

[_Returning to her excitedly._] I tell you I can't wait through a night of suspense! Quick! [_Facing the room._] Leave me to deal with her here, at once.

DUCHESS.

You!

QUEX.

[_Snapping his fingers._] By Jove, yes!

DUCHESS.

What are you going to do?

QUEX.

Give her a fair chance, and then spoil her tale against you, in any event.

DUCHESS.

How?

QUEX.

Trust to me. [_Impatiently._] Go, Duchess.

DUCHESS.

But where? where can I--?

QUEX.

Run away to Mrs. Jack--ask her to let you share her room to-night. [_Pointing to the writing-table._] Ah--! scribble a message--

[_The_ DUCHESS _seats herself at the writing-table and writes agitatedly at his dictation._

QUEX.

[_Dictating._] "The Duchess of Strood has been seized with a dreadful fit of nerves and has gone to Mrs. Eden's room. Come to her there at eight." Lay that upon the bed. [_Indicating the bedroom._] Is there a door in there?

DUCHESS.

[_Rising breathlessly._] Yes.

QUEX.

Locked?

DUCHESS.

Yes.

QUEX.

The key. [_Imperatively._] Give me the key. [_She runs into the bedroom and, having laid the written message upon the bed, disappears for a moment. He refills his tumbler and drinks, chuckling sardonically as he does so._] Ha, ha, ha! [_She returns with the key, which he pockets._] The bell that rings in your maid's room--? [_She points to the bell-rope hanging beside the passage-door._] Good. [_Motioning to her to go_.] Now--[_She is going towards the other door; he detains her._] Hist! [_Thoughtfully._] If anything unusual should occur, remember that we were simply discussing books and pictures in the Italian garden before dinner.

DUCHESS.

[_Intently._] Books and pictures--of course. [_In an outburst._] Oh, you are certain you can save my reputation?

QUEX.

[_Politely._] _Yours_ at least, my dear Duchess. Sleep well.

[_She is about to open the door when a thought strikes her and she again runs up to the bed._

DUCHESS.

Ah--!

QUEX.

Hey?

[_She returns, carrying her night-dress case--a thing of white satin with a monogram and coronet embroidered upon it. She holds it up to him in explanation; he nods, and she lets herself out. He immediately locks the door at which she has departed and slips the key into his waistcoat pocket. This done, he pulls the bell-rope communicating with the maid's room and takes up a position against the wall so that the opening of the passage door conceals him from the view of the person entering. After a pause the door is opened and_ SOPHY _appears. The frills of her night-dress peep out from under the Mandarin's robe, and she is wearing a pair of scarlet cloth slippers; altogether she presents an odd, fantastic figure. She pauses in the doorway hesitatingly, then steadies herself and, with a defiant air, stalks into the bedroom. Directly she has moved away,_ QUEX _softly closes the door, locks it, and pockets the key. Meanwhile_ SOPHY, _looking about the bedroom for the_ DUCHESS, _discovers the paper upon the bed. She picks it up, reads it and replaces it, and, coming back into the boudoir, encounters_ QUEX.

SOPHY.

Oh!

QUEX.

[_With a careless nod._] Ah?

SOPHY.

[_Recovering herself, and speaking with a contemptuous smile._] So her Grace has packed herself off to Mrs. Eden's room. [_Firmly._] Who rang for me, please?

QUEX.

_I_ rang.

SOPHY.

You? what for?

QUEX.

Oh, you and I are going to have a cosy little chat together.

SOPHY.

[_Haughtily._] I don't understand you.

QUEX.

We'll understand one another well enough, in a minute.

[_He lights another cigarette and seats himself upon the settee. She moves to the back of a chair, eyeing him distrustfully._

QUEX.

Now then! You've been at the key-hole, have you?

SOPHY.

[_Slightly embarrassed._] Y--yes.

QUEX.

[_Sharply._] Eh?

SOPHY.

[_Defiantly._] Yes; you know I have.

QUEX.

Ah. And I should like to know a little more, while we are upon the delicate subject of spying. When I found you behind the cypress-hedge this evening before dinner--

SOPHY.

Well?

QUEX.

You had just at that moment returned to the Italian garden, you said.

SOPHY.

Yes, so I said.

QUEX.

As a matter of fact, you had been there some time, I presume?

SOPHY.

A minute or two.

QUEX.

Heard anything?

SOPHY.

[_Laughing maliciously._] Ha, ha, ha! I heard her Grace say, "to-night"--[_faintly mimicking the_ DUCHESS] "to-night!" [_With a curl of the lip._] That was enough for me.

QUEX.

Quite so. You told a deliberate lie, then, when I questioned you?

SOPHY.

Yes.

QUEX.

Earlier in the evening, that manicure game of yours--nothing but a damned cunning trick, eh?

SOPHY.

I beg you won't use such language.

QUEX.

A trick, eh?

SOPHY.

Certainly.

QUEX.

You wanted--what did you want?

SOPHY.

[_Disdainfully._] A kiss, or a squeeze of the waist--anything of that sort would have done.

QUEX.

Oh, would it? You didn't get what you wanted, though.

SOPHY.

No; I suppose you were frightened.

QUEX.

[_Angrily._] What!

SOPHY.

Too many people about for you.

QUEX.

[_Stifling his annoyance._] Tsch! If I had--[_with a wave of the hand_] what course would you have taken, pray?

SOPHY.

[_With an air of great propriety._] Complained at once to Lady Owbridge.

QUEX.

As it is--what do you think of doing now?

SOPHY.

About you and her Grace?

QUEX.

[_Scowling._] Yes.

SOPHY.

Oh, tell the ladies in the morning, first thing.

QUEX.

[_Again putting a check upon himself._] Ha, ha! Why do you behave in this contemptible way?

SOPHY.

It isn't contemptible.

QUEX.

Isn't it?

SOPHY.

Not under the circumstances.

QUEX.

What circumstances?

SOPHY.

[_Hotly._] A wicked man like you engaged to a sweet girl like Miss Muriel!

QUEX.

I see. [_Politely._] You don't approve of the engagement?

SOPHY.

Should think not!

QUEX.

Always done your best to poison Miss Eden's mind against me, I expect?

SOPHY.

Always let her know my opinion of you. And I was right!

QUEX.

Right?

SOPHY.

This very day, poor thing, she was saying how proud she is of you because you've turned over a new leaf for her sake; and I told her what _your_ promises are worth. Yes, I was right! And now I can prove it!

[_He rises; she hastily places herself on the other side of the chair._

QUEX.

Look here! [_Leaning against the table, the chair being between him and_ SOPHY.] What will you take to hold your tongue?

SOPHY.

Nothing.

QUEX.

Oh, but wait. This isn't a matter of a handful of sovereigns. I'll give you a couple of thousand pounds to keep quiet about this.

SOPHY.

No, thank you, my lord.

QUEX.

Four thousand.

SOPHY.

[_Shaking her head._] No.

QUEX.

Five.

SOPHY.

No.

QUEX.

How much?

SOPHY.

Not twenty thousand. I'm extremely comfortably off, my lord, but if I wasn't I wouldn't accept a penny of your money. All I wish is to save Miss Muriel from marrying a--a gentleman who isn't fit for her. And that's what I intend doing.

[_They stand looking at each other for a moment, silently; then he walks away, thoughtfully._

QUEX.

[_In an altered tone._] Come here.

SOPHY.

[_With an eye on the door._] Certainly not.

QUEX.

As you please. Miss Fullgarney--

SOPHY.

I hear you.

QUEX.

I should like to settle this business with you pleasantly--if possible. Allow me to say this. I don't think I am quite such an atrocious person as you appear to believe; in fact I can assure you I am not.

SOPHY.

[_Gathering her robe about her and advancing a few steps._] You must excuse me, my lord, but--[_glancing round the room_] you evidently forget where you are.

QUEX.

No, I don't; but I tell you--I tell you sincerely--that my visit to her Grace to-night was an innocent one.

SOPHY.

[_Turning her head away, in great disdain._] Really!

QUEX.

Really. You won't accept money?

SOPHY.

No, indeed, I will not.

QUEX.

Very well. Ha! it's an odd attitude for a man like myself to adopt towards--[_indicating_ SOPHY _by a motion of the hand._] But I make an appeal to you.

SOPHY.

[_Elevating her eyebrows._] Appeal?

QUEX.

[_With simple feeling and dignity._] I love Miss Eden. I would be a good husband to that young lady. Let me off.

SOPHY.

Let you off?

QUEX.

Don't tell on me. Don't try to rob me of Miss Eden. Let me off.

SOPHY.

I'm sorry to say I can't, my lord.

QUEX

You won't?

SOPHY.

I won't. [_With a slight inclination of the head_ QUEX _turns away and stands leaning against the settee with his back towards_ SOPHY. _The clock strikes the quarter-of-an-hour. There is a short silence._] If your lordship has quite done with me--? [_He makes no response. She tosses her head._] I wish you good-night, my lord. [_She goes to the passage-door and turns the handle._] It's locked. This door's locked. [_Looking at him._] The door's locked. [_Rattling at the door-handle._] Where's the key? [_Searching about on the floor near the door._] Where's the--? [_Coming forward a step or two._] Has your lordship got the key of this door? [_Still obtaining no answer, she stands staring at him for a moment; then she goes quickly to the other door and tries the handle. As she does so,_ QUEX _turns sharply and, leaning upon the back of the settee, watches her. After shaking the door-handle vigorously, she wheels round and faces him, indignantly._] What's the meaning of this?

QUEX.

[_Grimly._] Ah!

SOPHY.

Oh--! [_She sweeps round to avoid him, and then runs into the bedroom. When she has gone he seats himself in the chair by the writing-table in a lazy attitude, his legs stretched out, his hands in his pockets. After a moment or two she returns breathlessly._] I'm locked in!

QUEX.

Yes.

SOPHY.

You have locked me in!

QUEX.

Yes.

SOPHY.

How dare you!

QUEX.

Why, you didn't think you were going to have it _all_ your own way, did you, Sophy?

SOPHY.

I'll thank you to be less familiar. Let me out.

QUEX.

Not I.

SOPHY.

You let me out directly.

QUEX.

[_Pointing a finger at her._] You'll gain nothing by raging, my good girl. Ha! now you appreciate the curiously awkward position in which you have placed yourself.

SOPHY.

I've placed myself in no--

QUEX.

Oh, come, come! Taking me at my blackest, I'm not quite the kind of man that a young woman who prides herself upon her respectability desires to be mixed up with in this fashion.

SOPHY.

Mixed up with!

QUEX.

Well--[_stretching out his arms_] here we are, you know.

SOPHY.

Here we are!

QUEX.

You and I, dear Sophy. [_Putting his leg over the arm of his chair._] Now just sit down--

SOPHY.

I sha'n't.

QUEX.

While I picture to you what will happen in the morning.

SOPHY.

In the morning?

QUEX.

In a few hours' time. In the first place, you will be called in your room. You won't be there.

SOPHY.

Won't I!

QUEX.

No. You won't be there. A little later my man will come to _my_ room. I sha'n't be there. At about the same hour, her Grace will require your attendance. Where will _you_ be? She will then, naturally, desire to return to her own apartments. You are intelligent enough, I fancy, to imagine the rest. [_After a brief pause, she breaks into a peal of soft, derisive laughter._] I am deeply flattered by your enjoyment of the prospect.

SOPHY.

Ha, ha, ha! why, you must take me for a fool!

QUEX.

Why?

SOPHY.

Why, can't you see that our being found together like this, here or anywhere, would do for _you_ as well as for me?

QUEX.

[_Rising._] Of course I see it. [_Advancing to her._] But, my dear Sophy, _I_ am already done for. _You_ provide for that. And so, if I have to part with my last shred of character, I will lose it in association with a woman of your class rather than with a lady whom I, with the rest of the world, hold in the highest esteem.

SOPHY.

[_After a pause._] Ho! oh, indeed?

QUEX.

Yes. Yes, indeed.

SOPHY.

[_With a shade less confidence._] Ha, ha! if your lordship thinks to frighten me, you've got hold of the wrong customer. Ha, ha, ha! two or three things you haven't reckoned for, I can assure you. Here's one--I told Miss Muriel exactly what I heard, between you and your Duchess, in the garden this evening.

QUEX.

[_Grinding his teeth._] You did! [_Involuntarily making a threatening movement towards her._] You did, you--!

SOPHY.

[_Cowering over the settee._] Oh!

QUEX.

[_Recovering himself._] Oh, you did, did you?

SOPHY.

[_Facing him defiantly._] Yes, I did.

QUEX.

[_Coolly._] Well? and what then? You listen to a conversation carried on in an open spot, from which your mischievous ears manage to detach the phrase "to-night." My explanation, if I am called upon to make one, will be absurdly simple.

SOPHY.

[_Derisively._] Ha, ha! will it! ha, ha, ha! I daresay!

QUEX.

Yes. You see, I promised her Grace that I would send a book to her room to-night--_to-night_. My man had gone to bed; I brought it myself, intending to hand it to Mrs. Watson, her maid. In the meantime, the Duchess had joined Mrs. Eden and I found _you_ here.

SOPHY.

You couldn't tell such an abominable lie!

QUEX.

[_Imperturbably._] I found _you_ here. And then--what is the obvious sequel to the story? [_Shrugging his shoulders._] I'm a wicked man, Sophy, and you're an undeniably pretty girl--and the devil dared me.

SOPHY.

Oh--!

QUEX.

[_Taking up the bottle of champagne._] And an excellent banquet you had chanced to provide for the occasion. [_Reading the label._] "Félix Poubelle, Carte d'Or." It will appear, I am afraid, that you had been preparing for the entertainment of some amorous footman.

SOPHY.

[_Snapping her fingers at him._] Puh! bah! Oh, the whole house shall know that that is your Duchess's champagne.

QUEX.

Excuse me--Mr. Brewster, the butler, will disprove that tale. You wheedled this out of him on your own account, remember.

SOPHY.

[_Disconcerted._] Oh--ah, yes--but--

QUEX.

For yourself, my dear Sophy.

SOPHY.

[_Falteringly._] Yes, but--but she made me do it.

QUEX.

She made you do it! [_Replacing the bottle, sternly._] And who, pray, will accept your word, upon this or any other point, against that of a lady of the position of the Duchess of Strood?

[_He walks away from her and examines the books upon the writing-table. She sits on the settee, a blank expression upon her face._

SOPHY.

[_After a little consideration, wiping her brow with the back of her hand._] At any rate, my darling--Miss Muriel--would quickly see through a horrid trick of this sort.

QUEX.

I bet you a dozen boxes of gloves to a case of your manicure instruments that she doesn't.

SOPHY.

I said to her to-day, at my place, that I was certain, if I could meet you alone in some quiet spot I could get a kiss out of you.

QUEX.

[_Under his breath, glaring at her._] You--! [_Coolly._] Oh, now I understand. Yes, my dear, but Miss Eden is scarcely likely to believe that a modest girl would carry her devotion to this extent. Good heavens! why, your attire--! [_She pulls her robe about her sharply._] And a woman who compromises herself, recollect, is never measured by her own character, always by her companion's.

[_She starts to her feet and paces the room, uttering cries of anger and indignation. He continues to interest himself in the books._

SOPHY.

Oh! no, no! my darling wouldn't think it of me! when I've abused you so continually! she surely couldn't! oh! oh! [_With flashing eyes._] Now, look here, my lord! you don't really imagine that I'm going to stick in this room with you patiently all through the night, do you?

QUEX.

How do you propose to avoid it?

SOPHY.

[_Pointing to the passage-door._] As true as I'm alive, if you don't unlock that door, I--I--I'll scream the place down!

QUEX.

Why scream? [_Pointing to the bell-rope which hangs beside the door._] There's the bell. I daresay a servant or two is still up and about. You'd rouse the house quicker in that way.

SOPHY.

Much obliged to you for the hint. I will--I will--[_She goes to the bell-rope and grasps it; then she looks round and sees him calmly turning the leaves of a book he has selected. She stares at him, with sudden misgiving._] Ha, now we shall see how much your grand scheme amounts to!

QUEX.

We shall. Ring the bell.

SOPHY.

[_Blankly._] What do you mean?

QUEX.

Pooh, my dear! ring, ring, ring! or yell! You won't be the first semi-circumspect young person who has got herself into a scrape and then endeavoured to save herself by raising a hullabaloo.

[_She slowly takes her hand from the bell-rope and moves a step or two towards him._

SOPHY.

Oh, that's what you'd try to make out, is it? [_He raises his eyes from his book and gives her a significant look. Leaning upon the arm of the settee, she says faintly._] You--you--!

QUEX.

Yes, I tell you again, my dear, you have got yourself into a shocking mess. You've got _me_ into a mess, and you've got yourself in a mess.

SOPHY.

[_Pulling herself up and advancing to him till she faces him._] You--you are an awful blackguard, my lord.

QUEX.

Thank you, my dear. But you're not far wrong--I was a blackguard till I met Miss Eden; and now, losing Miss Eden, perhaps I'm going to be a bigger blackguard than before. At the same time, you know, there's not much to choose between us; for you're a low spy, an impudent, bare-faced liar, a common kitchen-cat who wriggles into the best rooms, gets herself fondled, and then spits. [_Passing her and throwing himself, full-length, upon the settee and settling himself to read._] Therefore I've no compunction in making you pay your share of this score, my dear Sophy--none whatever.

[_She walks feebly to the passage-door and stands rattling the handle in an uncertain way. At last she breaks down and cries a little._

SOPHY.

Oh! oh! oh! let me go, my lord. [_He makes no response._] Do let me go--please! will you? [_Approaching him and wiping her eyes upon the sleeve of her night-dress._] I hope your lordship will kindly let me go.

QUEX.

[_Shortly._] No.

SOPHY.

[_Steadying herself._] I don't want to rouse the house at this time o' night if I can help it--

QUEX.

Don't you?

SOPHY.

Though I am certain I can make my story good anyway. But I'd rather your lordship let me out without the bother--[_Piteously._] Do! [_He turns a leaf of his book. She speaks defiantly._] Very well! very well! here I sit then! [_Seating herself._] We'll see who tires first, you or I! you or I! [_Again snapping her fingers at him._] Bah! you horror! you--horror!

QUEX.

[_Raising himself on his elbow._] Will you have this sofa? [_She gives him a fierce look._] A glass of your wine?

[_She rises, with a stamp of the foot, and once more paces the room. He sips his wine and re-settles himself. She goes distractedly from one object to another, now leaning upon a chair, then against the pillar of the cheval-glass. Ultimately she comes to the bell-rope and fingers it again irresolutely._

SOPHY.

[_Faintly._] My lord--! [_He remains silent. She releases the bell-rope._] Oh--h--h! [_She pauses by the settee, looking down upon him as though she would strike him; then she walks away, and, seating herself in the chair by the bedside, drops her head upon the bed. The clock tinkles the half-hour. There is a short silence. Suddenly she rises, uttering a sharp cry, with her hand to her heart._] Oh! [_panting_] oh! oh!

QUEX.

[_Looking at her._] What now?

SOPHY.

Valma!

QUEX.

Valma?

SOPHY.

Mr. Valma! oh, you know he is in the house!

QUEX.

He! what's he doing here?

SOPHY.

The housekeeper gave him permission to sleep here. You know! [_Stamping her foot._] Don't you know?

QUEX.

[_Sitting up, alertly._] Ho! my jealous friend, the palmist. _He_ is on the premises, hey?

SOPHY.

[_Distractedly._] Let me out! oh, yes, he _is_ jealous of me; he _is_ jealous of me, and we've had a few words about you as it is--

QUEX.

Ah!

SOPHY.

Oh, this would ruin me with Valma! oh, if your lordship hasn't any feeling for me, don't let Valma think that I'm a--that I'm--! [_Going down on her knees before him._] Oh, I won't tell on you! I promise I won't, if you'll only let me go! I will hold my tongue about you and the Duchess! I take my solemn oath I'll hold my tongue!

QUEX.

[_Rising._] Ha! [_Calmly._] No, my dear Sophy, I wasn't aware that your _fiancé_ is in the house. So the situation comes home to you a little more poignantly now, does it?

SOPHY.

[_Rising and going to the passage-door._] Unlock the door! where's the key?

QUEX.

Wait, wait, wait! And you're going to keep your mouth shut after all, are you?

SOPHY.

[_Rattling the door-handle._] Yes, yes, Unlock it!

QUEX.

Don't be in such a hurry.

SOPHY.

I give you my sacred word--

QUEX.

[_Thoughtfully._] Tsch, tsch, tsch! [_Sharply, with a snap of the fingers._] Yes--by Jove--! [_Pointing to the chair by the writing-table._] Sit down. [_Imperatively._] Sit down. [_She sits, wonderingly. He goes to the table, selects a plain sheet of paper and lays it before her. Then he hands her a pen._] Write as I tell you.

SOPHY.

[_Tremblingly._] What?

QUEX.

[_Pointing to the ink._] Ink. [_Dictating._] "My lord." [_She writes; he walks about as he dictates._] "My lord. I am truly obliged to you--"

SOPHY

Yes.

QUEX.

"For your great liberality--"

SOPHY.

[_Turning._] Eh?

QUEX.

[_Sternly._] Go on. [_She writes._] "For your great liberality, and in once more availing myself of it I quite understand--"

SOPHY.

[_Weakly._] Oh! [_After writing._] Yes.

QUEX.

"I quite understand that our friendship comes to an end." [_She rises and faces him._] Go on.

SOPHY.

Our friendship!

QUEX.

Yes.

SOPHY.

Our--_friendship_!

QUEX.

Yes.

SOPHY.

I won't.

QUEX.

Very well.

SOPHY.

How dare you try to make me write such a thing! [_He turns from her and, book in hand, resumes his recumbent position on the sofa. She approaches him, falteringly._] What would you do with that, if I did write it?

QUEX.

Simply hold it in my possession, as security for your silence, until after my marriage with Miss Eden; then return it to you.

SOPHY.

Oh, won't your lordship trust me?

QUEX.

[_Contemptuously._] Trust you! [_After a pause, she returns to the writing-table and takes up her pen again._] Where were we?

SOPHY.

[_Feebly._] "I quite understand--"

QUEX.

"That our friendship comes to an end." [_She writes. He rises and looks over her shoulder._] "While thanking you again for past and present favours--"

SOPHY.

[_Groaning as she writes._] Oh! oh!

QUEX.

"I undertake not to approach or annoy you in the future--"

SOPHY.

Oh!

QUEX.

"Upon any pretext whatsoever. Yours respectfully--" [_After watching the completion of the letter._] Date it vaguely--[_with a wave of the hand_] "Monday afternoon." Blot it. [_Moving away._] That's right. [_She rises, reading the letter with staring eyes. Then she comes to him and yields the letter, and he folds it neatly and puts it into his breast-pocket._] Thank you. I think I need detain you no longer.

SOPHY.

[_With a gasp._] Ah! stop a bit! no, I won't!

QUEX.

What's the matter with you?

SOPHY.

[_Wildly._] Why, it's like selling Muriel! Just to get myself out of this, I'm simply handing her over to you! I won't do it! I won't! [_She rushes to the bell-rope and tugs at it again and again._] She sha'n't marry you! she sha'n't! I've said she sha'n't, and she sha'n't! [_Leaving the bell-rope and facing him fiercely._] Oh, let your precious Duchess go scot-free! After all, what does it matter who the woman is you've been sporting with, so that Miss Muriel is kept from falling into your clutches! Yes, I'll make short work of _you_, my lord. The ladies shall hear from _my_ mouth of the lively half-hour I've spent with you, and how I've suddenly funked the consequences and _raised a hullabaloo_! Now, my lord! now then! now then!

[_His astonishment has given way to admiration; he gazes at her as if spell-bound._

QUEX.

[_After a pause, during which she stands before him panting._] By God, you're a fine plucked 'un! I've never known a better. [_Resolutely._] No, my girl, I'm damned if you shall suffer! Quick! listen! pull yourself together!

SOPHY.

[_Hysterically._] Eh? eh?

QUEX.

[_Taking her letter from his pocket and thrusting it into her hand._] Here's your letter! take it--I won't have it. [_Going quickly to the passage-door, unlocking it, and throwing the door open._] There you are!

SOPHY.

[_Sobbing._] Oh! oh!

[_There is a hurried, irregular knocking at the door._

QUEX.

[_Gripping her arm._] Hush! [_In a whisper._] Call out--wait!

SOPHY.

[_Raising her voice--unsteadily._] Wait--one moment!

QUEX.

[_In her ear, as he gives her the key of the door._] Say the Duchess is with Mrs. Jack; say she wants her letters brought to her in the morning; say anything--

SOPHY.

Yes, yes. [_Weeping and shaking and gasping, she goes to the door and unlocks it. He tip-toes into the bedroom and turns out the light there. She opens the door an inch or two._] Yes?

TWO VOICES.

[_A mans and a woman's._] What is it? what's the matter?

SOPHY.

[_Steadying herself, with an effort._] Nothing. Only her Grace has gone to Mrs. Eden's room and wishes her letters taken there in the morning most particularly--see?

THE VOICES.

What did you ring like that for? Thought the place was afire!

SOPHY.

Oh, don't make a fuss about nothing. You servants _are_ an old-fashioned lot. Bong swor!

THE VOICES.

[_Angrily._] Oh, good-night.

SOPHY.

Ha, ha, ha!

[_She closes the door and totters away from it, sobbing hysterically, as_ QUEX _comes to her._

QUEX.

[_Kindly._] Be off. Go to bed. Serve me how you please. Miss Fullgarney, upon my soul, I--I humbly beg your pardon.

SOPHY.

[_Passing him._] Oh! oh! oh! [_Turning to him._] Oh, God bless you! You--you--you're a gentleman! I'll do what I can for you!

[_She staggers to the passage-door and disappears, closing the door behind her. Then he extinguishes the remaining light, and cautiously lets himself out at the other door._

END OF THE THIRD ACT.

THE FOURTH ACT

_The scene is the same, in every respect, as that of the First Act._

[_On the right_ MISS CLARIDGE _is manicuring a young gentleman. On the left_ MISS MOON _is putting her manicure-table in order, as if she has recently disposed of a customer._ MISS LIMBIRD _is again at her desk, busy over accounts. The door-gong sounds and, after a short interval,_ QUEX _and_ FRAYNE _enter, preceded by_ MISS HUDDLE. FRAYNE _appears particularly depressed and unwell._

QUEX.

[_Nodding to_ MISS LIMBIRD.] Good morning.

MISS LIMBIRD.

Morning.

QUEX.

[_To_ MISS HUDDLE.] Miss Fullgarney has not yet arrived, you say?

MISS HUDDLE.

Not yet.

QUEX.

[_Looking at his watch._] Twenty minutes to twelve.

MISS MOON.

Yes, we've never known Miss Fullgarney to be so late at her business. I do hope she hasn't been run over and injured.

MISS HUDDLE.

Or murdered by tramps.

QUEX.

My dear young lady!

MISS MOON.

Well, one does read _such_ things in the ha'penny papers.

MISS HUDDLE.

And she went down to Richmond yesterday afternoon, you know--to Fauncey Court.

QUEX.

Of course I know--and slept there.

MISS MOON.

Oh, did she?

QUEX.

And has come up to town this morning.

MISS HUDDLE.

Then she'll have gone home, I expect, to change.

MISS MOON.

That's what she's done. [_Slightly disappointed._] Well, I _should_ have been sorry if anything had happened to her.

QUEX.

Naturally.

MISS HUDDLE.

So should I, though I'm quite new here.

MISS MOON.

It never gives _me_ any pleasure to hear of people having their limbs crushed.

MISS HUDDLE.

Or being murdered by tramps.

MISS MOON.

Won't your lordship take a chair? [_To_ FRAYNE, _who has wandered down to the window._] And you, sir?

[_The young gentleman, his manicuring being finished, has risen, paid_ MISS LIMBIRD _and departed, followed by_ MISS CLARIDGE _carrying her bowl and towel. The door-gong sounds._

QUEX.

Is that she?

MISS MOON.

No; that young gentleman leaving.

[MISS MOON, _carrying her bowl and towel, and_ MISS HUDDLE, _after exchanging a few words with_ MISS LIMBIRD, _withdraw._

FRAYNE.

[_To_ QUEX, _biliously._] How revoltingly hideous these gals look this morning!

QUEX.

Same as yesterday. You're seedy.

FRAYNE.

[_Closing his eyes._] Oh, shockingly seedy. [_Sitting._] I'm in for a go of malaria, I fear.

QUEX.

Shame of me to have routed you out of bed and bothered you with my affairs. [_Sitting._] But you can quite understand, Chick, how confoundedly anxious I am as to the attitude Miss Fullgarney will adopt towards me to-day.

FRAYNE.

Quite, quite. Harry--

QUEX.

Yes?

FRAYNE.

_What_ champagne was it we drank last night at Richmond?

QUEX.

[_With some bitterness._] Ha! Félix Poubelle, Carte d'Or.

FRAYNE.

[_Shaking his head._] _I_ can't take champagne.

QUEX.

_Can't_ you!

FRAYNE.

I mean I oughtn't to.

QUEX.

Oh. [_Referring to his watch again._] I've given you a pretty minute account of last night's tragedy, Chick. "I'll do what I can for you"--those were the Fullgarney's words. Good lord, they came at me like a bolt from the blue! Does she intend to act up to them, eh?--that's the question. Surely she'll act up to them, Chick?

FRAYNE.

Have you met the ladies this morning?

QUEX.

Yes--except Muriel, who didn't show at breakfast.

FRAYNE.

How did you find 'em?

QUEX.

Amiability itself; _they_ know nothing. [_Rising and looking down upon_ FRAYNE.] You see, Chick, all that Miss Fullgarney has to do--if she hasn't already done it--is to tell a trifling taradiddle to Muriel concerning the events of last night. Well, in effect, she has promised to do that, hasn't she? [_Impatiently._] Eh?

FRAYNE.

[_Gloomily._] Frankly, Harry, I shouldn't be in the least surprised if the jade sold you.

QUEX.

[_His jaw falling._] You wouldn't?

FRAYNE.

No.

QUEX.

Phew! _I_ should. [_Warmly._] By Jove, I should!

FRAYNE.

I have conceived a great aversion to her--a long, scraggy gal.

QUEX.

[_With enthusiasm._] As full of courage as a thoroughbred!

FRAYNE.

[_Closing his eyes._] I can picture her elbows; sharp, pointed elbows--the barbed fence of the spiteful woman.

QUEX.

Pooh! yesterday she was alluring.

FRAYNE.

[_Rising painfully._] Yesterday--! [_Gravely._] Harry, do you know there are moments when I feel that I am changing towards the sex; when I fancy I can discern the skeleton, as it were, through the rounded cheek?

QUEX.

You!

FRAYNE.

Yes, this novel sentiment is undoubtedly gaining possession of your old friend--gradually, perhaps, but surely.

QUEX.

[_Regarding him searchingly._] Excuse me, Chick--did you turn into the Beefsteak when you got back from Richmond last night?

FRAYNE.

For an hour. Oh, a great mistake.

QUEX.

What, a little whisky on the top of champagne?

FRAYNE.

[_Gazing pathetically at_ QUEX _with watery eyes._] A good deal of champagne underneath a lot of whisky.

[_The door-gong sounds._

QUEX.

Who's this? [_He walks to the entrance, and looks into the further room._] The Fullgarney.

[_He returns to his former position, as_ SOPHY _enters quickly followed by_ MISS CLARIDGE, MISS MOON, _and_ MISS HUDDLE. SOPHY--_dressed as at the end of the First Act--is pale, red-eyed, and generally unstrung. She comes to_ QUEX, _disconcerted by his presence._

SOPHY.

[_Confronting him._] Oh, good morning.

QUEX.

May I beg a few moments--?

SOPHY.

Er--certainly. I'll just take off my things--

[_He joins_ FRAYNE. _She goes across the room where she is surrounded by her girls._

MISS CLARIDGE.

Oh, Miss Fullgarney, how ill you look!

MISS MOON.

You do seem queer!

MISS HUDDLE.

Just as if you were sickening for something.

MISS LIMBIRD.

[_Coming between_ MISS CLARIDGE _and_ SOPHY.] Quite ghostly!

SOPHY.

I'm all right, girls; I've had a bad night, that's all. [_Giving her umbrella to_ MISS CLARIDGE _and her bag to_ MISS MOON, _who passes it to_ MISS HUDDLE.] Here! hi! take that beastly bag. [_To_ MISS LIMBIRD, _who is removing her hat._] Oh, don't waggle my head, whatever you do! [_To_ MISS MOON, _who is pulling at her jacket._] Tear the thing off. [_Stripping off her gloves, and speaking in a whisper._] Girls, I don't want to be disturbed for five minutes.

MISS LIMBIRD.

Very well, Miss Fullgarney.

SOPHY.

[_Glancing at_ QUEX _and_ FRAYNE, _who are now looking out of the window, with their backs towards her._] If Miss Eden should happen to turn up before I'm free, just mention who I'm engaged with, will you?

MISS MOON.

Yes, Miss Fullgarney.

SOPHY.

That'll do. [_With sudden fierceness._] What are you all staring at? Haven't any of _you_ ever slept in a strange bed?

[_The girls retreat hastily, each carrying an article belonging to_ SOPHY.

QUEX.

[_Advancing a step or two._] I am exceedingly sorry to see you looking so fatigued.

SOPHY.

[_Faintly._] Didn't close my eyes the whole night. [_She drops the_ portière _over the entrance, and approaches_ QUEX.] Well, my lord?

QUEX.

I have ventured to call upon you, Miss Fullgarney, in the hope of ratifying the excellent understanding with which we parted last night.

SOPHY.

[_Pointing to_ FRAYNE.] Well, but--er--

QUEX.

Oh--oh, yes--[_To_ FRAYNE, _who has turned away._] Frayne--[_To_ SOPHY.] I have taken my old and trusted friend, Sir Chichester Frayne, into my confidence in this regrettable business.

SOPHY.

[_Dubiously._] Indeed?

QUEX.

I thought it desirable there should be a third party--

SOPHY.

P'r'aps you're right. [_Cuttingly._] One needs a third party when one has the honour of meeting your lordship--[_Checking herself._] Excuse me.

QUEX.

[_Pleasantly, with a slight bow of acknowledgment._] Before we go further, I may tell you that her Grace has informed me of what passed between you this morning.

SOPHY.

Nothing passed.

QUEX.

Precisely.

SOPHY.

The lady beamed upon me, for all the world as if she was an angel spending a Saturday-to-Monday here below; and I dressed her hair for her just as if I didn't want to tear it out by the roots. And then she turned up her eyes and said she hoped every happiness would attend me, and went downstairs to prayers.

QUEX.

Will you allow me to--to thank you?

SOPHY.

[_Frigidly._] You needn't. [_Abruptly._] Oh, by-the-by, the lady gave me a--a keepsake, she called it. [_Endeavouring to extract some bulky object from her pocket._] I mean to burn the thing, once I've found out what's inside it. But I can't get it open. Here it is.

[_She exhibits the little box, covered with brocade, which_ QUEX _has returned to the_ DUCHESS _in the previous Act._

QUEX.

[_Surprised._] By Jove!

SOPHY.

[_Simply._] Eh?

QUEX.

Er--I was wondering what she can have put in that little box.

SOPHY.

Yes, _I_ wonder. [_Pulling at the lid._] It's locked.

QUEX.

I fancy it has one of those Bramah locks which snap. I may have a key-- [_He produces his key-ring and, promptly selecting a key, unlocks the box._] Fortunate coincidence.

[_She opens the box and takes out the first thing that presents itself--the blue silk garter with the diamond buckle._

SOPHY.

[_Scandalised._] Oh, my gracious! I _beg_ your pardon.

[_She leaves him hurriedly and hides the box in the cabinet._

QUEX.

[_Quietly to_ FRAYNE.] Chick, she has passed the souvenirs on to Miss Fullgarney!

FRAYNE.

[_Bitterly._] How like a woman!

QUEX.

Some women.

FRAYNE.

[_In disgust._] Pah!

QUEX.

Yesterday she was alluring.

FRAYNE.

[_Waving the past from him._] Yesterday--[_with a slight hiccup_] hic! [_Turning away apologetically._] The heat in this room--

[_He walks away, as_ SOPHY _returns to_ QUEX.

QUEX.

[_To_ SOPHY.] Well, I must not detain you longer, Miss Fullgarney. But there is, of course, one point upon which I should like to feel completely assured. You have seen Miss Eden--?

SOPHY.

No; not since last evening.

QUEX.

[_Anxiously._] When do you--?

SOPHY.

[_Looking away._] I'm rather expecting her to pop in here during the day.

QUEX.

Quite so. And--and then--?

SOPHY.

[_Facing him candidly._] Your lordship told me last night that your little visit to the Duchess was a perfectly innocent one?

QUEX.

Absolutely innocent. [_Hesitatingly._] I fear I cannot go further than that.

FRAYNE.

[_Fanning himself with his handkerchief._] By gad, why not, Harry? We are in Miss Fullgarney's hands. [_To_ SOPHY.] His lordship went to her Grace's apartment solely to return some gifts which he had accepted from her in the--ah--dim, distant past, and to say adieu.

SOPHY.

[_Witheringly._] Ah, I knew _she_ was a double-faced thing; [_looking at_ QUEX _relentingly_] but p'r'aps one _has_ been a little down on _you_.

QUEX.

[_Meekly._] You have it in your power to atone for that amply.

SOPHY.

[_Half-feelingly, half-sullenly._] At any rate, you behaved, in the end, like a gentleman to me last night. And so--when I see Miss Muriel--

QUEX.

Yes?

SOPHY.

[_Deliberately._] I am going to tell her a lie.

QUEX.

[_With some emotion._] Miss Fullgarney, I--I--

SOPHY.

Oh, I said I'd do what I can for you. [_Uncomfortably._] And this is all I _can_ do.

QUEX.

[_Light-heartedly._] All!

SOPHY.

Just to give you a chance.

QUEX.

Chance! [_Drawing a deep breath._] You place my happiness beyond danger.

SOPHY.

[_Impulsively, offering him her hand._] I wish you luck, my lord.

[_He takes her hand and wrings it._

FRAYNE.

[_Who has opened the window for air._] Hallo!

SOPHY.

[_Turning nervously._] What--?

FRAYNE.

[_Looking out._] Isn't this your friend, Captain Bastling?

QUEX.

Bastling?

FRAYNE.

At that window?

[FRAYNE _moves away to the circular table and sniffs at a bottle of scent._ QUEX _goes to the window._

QUEX.

[_Looking out._] Yes. What's old Napier up to there?

SOPHY.

[_Guiltily._] I--I heard Captain Bastling mention that he was thinking of having his hand read by Mr. Valma some time or other.

QUEX.

No! ha, ha, ha! [_Leaving the window._] He doesn't see me; I won't disturb him. [_To_ SOPHY, _jocularly._] A convenient arrangement--it is possible to transfer oneself from the manicurist to the palmist without the trouble of putting on one's gloves.

SOPHY.

Ha, ha! y--yes.

QUEX.

[_Pausing on his way to the entrance._] Miss Fullgarney, may I ask if you and Mr. Valma have fixed upon the date of your marriage?

SOPHY.

Oh, we sha'n't get married yet awhile--not for a year or more, I fancy.

QUEX.

[_Graciously._] In that case, I shall hope to have the pleasure, and the privilege, of being present at your wedding--with my wife.

SOPHY.

[_Hanging her head._] Thank you.

QUEX.

Chick--

[_He goes out._

FRAYNE.

[_Turning to_ SOPHY _with dignity._] Miss Fullgarney, one thing I desire to say. It is that your behaviour this morning completely obliterates--the--

[_He is cut short by another hiccup and, with a bow, withdraws._ POLLITT _appears at the window._ SOPHY _goes to the entrance, and watches the departure of_ QUEX _and_ FRAYNE. POLLITT _enters the room. The door-gong sounds._

POLLITT.

Sophy.

SOPHY.

[_Turning._] Oh! Valma, dear?

POLLITT.

[_With a heavy brow._] Captain Bastling is waiting at my place, for Miss Eden.

SOPHY.

[_Subdued._] Is he?

POLLITT.

Dearest, during my brief but, I pride myself, honourable association with palmistry, this is the first time my rooms have been used for this sort of game.

SOPHY.

This sort of game?

POLLITT.

Other Professors have stooped to it, but I--oh, no, it is playing palmistry a little bit too low down.

SOPHY.

[_Unhappily._] Surely it's quite harmless, love--a couple of young people meeting to say good-bye.

POLLITT.

From what you've told me, I greatly doubt that it _will_ be good-bye.

SOPHY.

D--d--do you?

POLLITT.

[_Hotly._] Anyhow I resent _your_ being the go-between of this gallant captain and a girl betrothed to another man--you who are naturally such a thorough lady!

SOPHY.

Oh--oh, Valma--!

[_She drops her head upon his shoulder and whimpers._

POLLITT.

Dearest, what have I said?

SOPHY.

Valma, I've made up my mind. I intend to do exactly what you wish, in the future, in everything. I'm going to give up squatting down here manicuring gentlemen--

POLLITT.

Sophy!

SOPHY.

And shall simply sail about these rooms, overlooking my girls in the plainest of silks. And never again will I interfere in an underhand way in other people's affairs on any account whatever. [_Putting her arms round his neck._] Yes, you _shall_ find me a lady--a lady--

POLLITT.

[_Tenderly._] Ah--! [_The door-gong sounds. She raises her head and dries her eyes hurriedly._] Is that Miss Eden?

[_He crosses to the window as she goes to the entrance._ MISS LIMBIRD _appears._

MISS LIMBIRD.

[_To_ SOPHY.] Here's Miss Eden.

SOPHY.

[_With a nod._] Give me half a minute with her; then I'm at liberty. [MISS LIMBIRD _disappears._ SOPHY _comes to_ POLLITT.] I'll send Muriel across directly.

[_He departs._ MISS LIMBIRD _returns and, holding the_ portière _aside, admits_ MURIEL. MURIEL _is wearing a veil._ MISS LIMBIRD _withdraws._ SOPHY _meets_ MURIEL; _they kiss each other undemonstratively._

SOPHY.

[_Constrainedly._] Well, darling?

MURIEL.

[_In the same way._] Well, Sophy?

SOPHY.

You're here then?

MURIEL.

As you see.

SOPHY.

Any difficulty?

MURIEL.

[_In a hard voice._] No. The Duchess and Mrs. Jack were coming to town shopping, and Lady Owbridge proposed that she and I should tack ourselves on to them.

SOPHY.

How have you got rid of 'em?

MURIEL.

Spoken the truth, for once--my head really does throb terribly. They think I've run in here to sit quietly with you while they--[_Suddenly._] Oh, be quick, Sophy!

SOPHY.

Quick, dear?

MURIEL.

Why don't you tell me?

SOPHY.

Tell you--?

MURIEL.

About last night--this woman--

SOPHY.

Her Grace?

MURIEL.

Yes, yes.

SOPHY.

Oh, why, I haven't anything to tell, darling.

MURIEL.

Haven't anything to--?

SOPHY.

You see, I couldn't help remembering what you'd called me--mean, and despicable, and all the rest of it; and the feeling came over me that you were right, that I had been sneaky. And so, after I'd attended to her Grace, I--I went straight to bed.

MURIEL.

[_Sitting._] Oh, yes. Then you didn't attempt to--to watch?

SOPHY.

No.

MURIEL.

[_Faintly._] Oh!

SOPHY.

Aren't you glad?

MURIEL.

Glad!

SOPHY.

Why, you were certain that the word or two I'd overheard meant nothing wrong.

MURIEL.

I said so.

SOPHY.

Said so!

MURIEL.

[_Turning to her with clenched hands._] Yes, but at the same time you put the dreadful idea into my head, Sophy, and I've not been able to dismiss it for one moment since.

SOPHY.

[_Under her breath._] Oh!

[_Sitting._

MURIEL.

[_Lifting her veil._] There! you can see what I've been going through.

SOPHY.

[_Looking at her._] I'm so sorry.

MURIEL.

[_Looking at_ SOPHY.] _You_ look rather washed out too. Haven't you slept, either?

SOPHY.

[_Turning her head away._] Not over well. [_Falteringly._] Then, after all, it would have been better if I _had_ spied on her?

MURIEL.

Anything--even that--would have been preferable to this uncertainty.

SOPHY.

[_To herself, her jaw falling._] Oh--!

MURIEL.

[_Looking towards the window._] Has _he_ arrived?

SOPHY.

Yes. [MURIEL _rises, then_ SOPHY.

MURIEL.

[_Producing, from her pocket, a jeweller's case and showing it to_ SOPHY.] Do you like this? I've just bought it, over the way, at Gressier's.

SOPHY.

For Captain Bastling?

MURIEL.

[_With a nod, opening the box._] A solitaire shirt-stud.

[_She retains a neatly-folded piece of paper which is enclosed in the box and hands the box to_ SOPHY.

SOPHY.

Beautiful. [_Glancing at the piece of paper in_ MURIEL'S _hand._] What's that?

MURIEL.

[_Unfolding the paper carefully._] This goes with it.

[_She holds the paper before_ SOPHY.

SOPHY.

[_Reading._] "To Napier--"

MURIEL.

[_Withdrawing the paper._] Ah, no.

SOPHY.

Mayn't I?

MURIEL.

[_Yielding the paper impulsively._] Yes, _you_ may.

[MURIEL _turns away and stands leaning upon the back of the screen-chair on the left, with her face in her hands._ SOPHY _places the jeweller's case upon the circular table._

SOPHY.

[_Reading with difficulty._] "To Napier from Muriel. I only--" what? You _have_ blotted it.

MURIEL.

[_With a sob._] Have I?

SOPHY.

You've been crying over it.

MURIEL.

Yes.

SOPHY.

"I only--" I can't read it.

MURIEL.

[_Through her tears._]

"I only know--we loved in vain:
I only feel--Farewell!--Farewell!"

SOPHY.

[_In a low voice._] Very nice, darling. [_She lays the paper tenderly upon the box and goes to_ MURIEL. _Eyeing her keenly._] You really _are_ determined, then, to wish him good-bye?

MURIEL.

[_Turning to her and weeping upon her shoulder._] Oh, Sophy! Sophy!

SOPHY.

There, there! it'll soon be over.

MURIEL.

[_Raising her head._] Over! yes, yes! over!

SOPHY.

And--p'r'aps it's all for the best, you know.

MURIEL.

For the best!

SOPHY.

What I mean is, that very likely we've both of us been a little cruel to poor Lord Quex--hard on him--

MURIEL.

[_Indignantly._] _You_ say this to me! [_Distractedly._] _You_ say this, after having poisoned my mind and given me an awful night of sleeplessness and doubt. Yesterday I was as firm as a rock; to-day I'm as weak as water again. [_Facing_ SOPHY _with flashing eyes._] Ah, I tell you honestly you'd better not let me meet Captain Bastling this morning! you'd better not let me see him!

[_The door-gong sounds._ BASTLING _appears at the window, and looks into the room._

SOPHY.

[_Whose back is towards the window, soothingly._] No, no, you sha'n't go across to Valma's while you're like this. I'll make an excuse for you to Captain Bastling--

BASTLING.

[_At the window._] Muriel!

MURIEL.

[_Passing_ SOPHY _swiftly._] Napier!

SOPHY.

[_Holding her arm._] Darling--

MURIEL.

[_Freeing herself._] Release me, Sophy! release me! ah--!

[_She joins_ BASTLING _and they disappear. As_ SOPHY _goes to the window and looks out after them,_ QUEX _enters, followed by_ FRAYNE.

QUEX.

[_Glancing round the room._] Miss Fullgarney--

SOPHY.

[_Turning sharply._] Hey? [_Blankly._] Oh--my lord--!

QUEX.

I am compelled to intrude upon you again. I have just met Lady Owbridge, with her Grace and Mrs. Eden in Sackville Street. My aunt sends me with a message to Miss Eden.

SOPHY.

[_Confused._] M--m--Miss Eden?

QUEX.

Mrs. Eden has proposed a lunch at Prince's, provided that Miss Eden feels equal to--[_Looking about him again._] Where is Miss Eden?

SOPHY.

Where?

QUEX.

She is here--with you.

SOPHY.

N--no.

QUEX.

No?

SOPHY.

[_With a gulp._] _I_ haven't seen anything of her.

QUEX.

[_In an altered tone._] Really?

SOPHY.

No.

QUEX.

[_Calmly._] Strange.

[_He walks away and joins_ FRAYNE. SOPHY _stealthily closes and fastens the window._

QUEX.

[_In a low voice, to_ FRAYNE.] Chick--

FRAYNE.

Eh?

QUEX.

Miss Eden _is_ here. Why is the Fullgarney telling me this falsehood?

FRAYNE.

You will remember I was positive she would sell you before she'd done with you.

QUEX.