QUEX.

Ha, ha, ha!

SOPHY.

Am I right? am I right, eh? [_Putting her cheek near his lips--speaking in a low voice, breathlessly, her eyes averted._] Tell me whether I'm right, my lord.

[_For the first time, a suspicion of her designs crosses his mind. He draws back slowly, eyeing her. There is a pause._

QUEX.

[_In an altered tone, but keeping her in play._] Ha, ha, ha, ha!

[_Looking at his watch._] I--I am afraid I shall have to run away to dress for dinner very soon.

SOPHY.

[_Resuming her work, disappointed._] Not yet; you've plenty of time. But there, dangerous or not dangerous, in my heart I can't help holding with what my lady-customers are continually saying.

QUEX.

[_Watching her keenly._] No? and what are your lady-customers continually saying?

SOPHY.

Why, that the young fellows of the day are such conceited, apish creatures; no man under forty-five is worth wasting a minute's time over.

QUEX.

Ho! they say that, your lady-customers?

SOPHY.

Yes; and they're good judges, they are.

QUEX.

Good judges! none better--none better.

SOPHY.

[_Laying her clipper aside suddenly, and putting her hand to her eyes with a cry of pain._] Oh!

QUEX.

[_Coolly._] What's the matter?

SOPHY.

[_Rising._] A little splinter has flown into my eye It often happens.

QUEX.

[_Rising._] Extremely painful, I expect?

SOPHY.

[_Producing her handkerchief._] Very. [_Giving him her handkerchief._]

Do you think you could find it?

QUEX.

Certainly, if it's to be found.

SOPHY.

[_Holding the lapels of his coat, her head almost upon his shoulder, her eyes closed._] Ah! please make haste and look for it!

QUEX.

Right or left?

SOPHY.

The ri--the left.

QUEX.

[_Sharply._] Raise your head. Stand up.

SOPHY.

[_Releasing his coat and raising her head._] Eh?

QUEX.

[_Sternly._] Open your eyes. Both of them. [_She opens her eyes and stares at him. He returns her handkerchief._] There! I have removed the splinter. [_She slowly backs away like a whipped child. He follows her._] Miss Fullgarney, I understand you are engaged to be married--to this young man, Valma?

SOPHY.

[_Tremblingly._] Yes, my lord.

QUEX.

Do you care for him?

SOPHY.

[_Faintly._] Yes.