[_There is another pause; then her face lights up, and she comes down to him swiftly._

SOPHY.

[_Close to him._] Show me your nails, my lord.

QUEX.

[_Lowering his paper._] My nails?

SOPHY.

[_Taking his hand and examining it._] Excuse me. Oh, my lord, for shame!

QUEX.

You take exception to them?

SOPHY.

This is hacking, not cutting. You ought never to be allowed within a mile of a pair of scissors.

QUEX.

[_Looking at his other hand._] Oh, come! they're hardly as bad as all that.

SOPHY

[_Examining that hand also._] Ha, ha, ha!

QUEX.

[_Rising, somewhat abashed._] Ha! I confess I am a little unskilful at such operations.

SOPHY.

No gentleman should trust to himself where his nails are concerned. Why, a man's hand has lost him a young lady's affections before this! I've heard of heaps of cases where matches have been broken off--

QUEX.

[_Putting his hands behind him, smiling._] Really? the results of manicure are more far-reaching than I had imagined.

SOPHY.

You, see, my lord, when a man's courting he is free to look his young lady in the face for as long as he chooses; it's considered proper and attentive. But the girl is expected to drop _her_ eyes, and then--what has _she_ to look at? Why, a well-trimmed hand or an ugly one. [_Taking off her rings._] Now then, I'll do wonders for you in ten minutes.

QUEX.

Thank you; I am not going indoors just yet.

SOPHY.

No need to go indoors. [_Depositing her rings upon the table and opening her bag._] I've got my bag here, with all my tools--see!

QUEX.

Ah, but I won't trouble you this evening. Another occasion--

SOPHY.

[_Arranging her manicure instruments, &c., upon the table._] No trouble at all, my lord--quite an honour. [_Indicating the stone bench._] Please sit down there. [_Producing a little bra.s.s bowl._] Water--?

[_She runs to the fountain and fills her bowl from its basin._

QUEX.

[_Crossing, hesitatingly, to the right--looking at his nails and speaking in a formal manner._] You have been bidden to Fauncey Court for rest and relaxation, Miss Fullgarney; it is most obliging of you to allow your pleasure to be disturbed in this way.

SOPHY.

[_Returning to him._] Oh, don't say that, my lord. [_Putting the bowl on the table and dragging the garden-chair forward to face him._] Business _is_ a pleasure, sometimes.

[_Her close proximity to him forces him back upon the bench._

QUEX.

[_Seated--stiffly._] You must, at least, let me open an account at your excellent establishment.

SOPHY.

Not I. [_Seated--taking his right hand._] One may work occasionally for love, I should hope? [_archly_] ha, ha! just for love, eh?

QUEX

[_Uncomfortably._] No, no, I couldn't permit it--I couldn't permit it.

SOPHY.

[_Holding his hand almost caressingly._] Well, well! we'll see--we'll see. [_She clips his nails briskly and methodically. While she does so she again hums a song, looking up at him at intervals enticingly, under her lashes. Breaking off in her song._] My goodness! what a smooth, young hand you have!

QUEX.

[_His discomfort increasing._] Er--indeed?

SOPHY.

Many a man of six-and-twenty would be glad to own such hands, I can tell you. [_Patting his hand reprovingly._] Keep still! [_It is now his turn to hum a song, which he does, under his breath, to disguise his embarra.s.sment. She looks up at him._] But then, you're an awfully young man for your age, in every way, aren't you?

QUEX.