On the outside of the dwarf hedge is a walk; and beyond, on the right and left, are trees. Within the enclosure, on the left, is a small fountain; facing the fountain, on the right, a piece of old, broken sculpture. Other bits of antique sculpture are placed in different parts of the garden. In the foreground, on the right towards the centre, stands a stone bench, on the left of which is a table upon which are the remains of "afternoon tea," with a garden chair. A similar stone bench stands opposite._

_The light is that of a very fine evening._

[LADY OWBRIDGE _is in the garden-chair, asleep, an open book in her lap._ QUEX _and_ MURIEL _stand, talking together, by the fountain. On the right-hand stone bench the_ d.u.c.h.eSS OF STROOD _and_ MRS. EDEN _are seated. The_ d.u.c.h.eSS _is a daintily beautiful doll of about seven-and-thirty--a_ poseuse, _outwardly dignified and stately when upon her guard, really a frail, shallow little creature full of extravagant sentimentality. Until_ LADY OWBRIDGE _wakes, the conversation is carried on in subdued tones._

MRS. EDEN.

[_Indicating_ MURIEL _and_ QUEX.] They make a fascinating couple, don't they, d.u.c.h.ess?

d.u.c.h.eSS.

[_With placid melancholy._] To see two people on the threshold of wedlock is always painfully interesting.

MRS. EDEN.

I am quite triumphant about it. It is such a delightful engagement, now that the horrid difficulties are smoothed away.

d.u.c.h.eSS.

Yes, you were telling me of some sad obstacles--

MRS. EDEN.

I nearly perished of them! [_Very confidentially._] There's no doubt, you know, that his past _has_ been exceptionally naughty.

d.u.c.h.eSS.

Really? Ah! don't be surprised that I am not more deeply shocked. In these surroundings it is hard to realise that every aspect of life is not as lovely as--[_pointing to the foliage_] the tones of those exquisite, deep greens, for example.

MRS. EDEN.

However, the dear thing is going to be _so_ good in the future.

[_Turning to the_ d.u.c.h.eSS.] I keep forgetting--Lord Quex is a very old friend of yours?

d.u.c.h.eSS.

[_Serenely._] An acquaintance of many years' standing. But since his Grace has been an invalid we have lived much abroad, or in seclusion, and gossip has not reached us. Alas, you find me a ready subject _a desillusionner_! [_Rising._] We are in the sun. Shall we walk?

MRS. EDEN.

[_Sympathetically, as they walk._] Is his Grace still very unwell?

d.u.c.h.eSS.

[_Smiling sadly upon_ MRS. EDEN.] He is still over seventy.

[_They wander away, through the trees, as_ QUEX _and_ MURIEL _leave the fountain._

QUEX.

[_With tender playfulness, first glancing at the sleeping_ LADY OWBRIDGE.] And so all these good things are to befall me after to-morrow?

MURIEL.

[_In a low voice._] After to-morrow.

QUEX.

When I approach, I shall no longer see you skim away into the far vista of these alleys, or shrink back into the shadows of the corridors--[_prosaically_] after to-morrow.

MURIEL.

No--not after to-morrow.

QUEX.

In place of a cold word, a chilling phrase, a warm one--after to-morrow.

MURIEL.

I am going to try.

QUEX.

If I touch your hand, you'll not slip it behind your back in a hurry [_touching her hand_]--?

MURIEL.

[_Withdrawing it._] Not after to-morrow.

[_She sits; he stands behind the stone bench, leaning over the back of it._

QUEX.

But why, may I ask, is this bliss reserved till after _to-morrow_?

MURIEL.

I had rather you did _not_ ask me, Quex.

QUEX.

No? I see, I am a day too soon in putting even that little question.

MURIEL.

Ah, I'll tell you this--I am going to turn over a new leaf, after to-morrow.

QUEX.