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.