[_Decidedly._] I say I cannot!

QUEX.

[_To himself, with a little groan._] Oh! phew!

[_He walks to and fro impatiently, reflecting._ SOPHY, _without her hat, comes quickly down the steps as if making for the table. Seeing_ QUEX _and the_ d.u.c.h.eSS, _she draws back, inquisitively._

QUEX.

[_By the_ d.u.c.h.eSS'S _side again, helplessly._] Well, I--ha!--I--

d.u.c.h.eSS.

[_Rising eagerly, laying a hand upon his arm._] You _will_?

[SOPHY _stoops down behind the dwarf cypress-hedge._

QUEX.

You are certain--certain that this would effectually remove the obstacle to your rejoining--[_with a wave of the hand_] on Friday?

d.u.c.h.eSS.

Why, do you think I would risk an anticlimax? [_In an intense whisper._]

To-night! [_Louder._] To-night? [_He hesitates a little longer--then bows in a.s.sent, stiffly and coldly. She gives an ardent sigh._] Ah--!

[_He retreats a step or two. She draws herself up with dignity._]

To-night then--

[_She turns from him and glides away through the trees. He stands for a moment, a frown upon his face, in thought._

QUEX.

[_Suddenly, moving in the direction she has taken._] No, no! d.u.c.h.ess--!

[_A gong sounds in the distance, he pauses, looking at his watch, angrily._] Ptshah! [_He turns up the stage and discovers_ SOPHY, _who is now standing behind the hedge._] Hallo! [SOPHY _advances, laughing rather foolishly._] What are you doing here?

SOPHY.

Looking for my rings. I took them off before I began manicuring you.

QUEX.

[_Pointing to the hedge._] You didn't drop them there, did you?

SOPHY.

No, I left them on the table.

QUEX.

[_Looking towards the table._] _There's_ the table.

SOPHY.

[_Coming to the table and putting on her rings_.] Yes, I know.

QUEX.

[_After a short pause._] How long have you been here?

SOPHY.

I? Oh, I'd just come as you spoke to me.

QUEX.

[_Half-satisfied._] Oh--?

[_He goes up the steps, gives her a parting look, and, disappears. It is now twilight._ MRS. EDEN, FRAYNE, _and_ MURIEL--_all dressed for dinner--appear on the other side of the low hedge._

MRS. EDEN.

[_To_ FRAYNE, _walking with him above the hedge._] Delightful, isn't it?

It was planted by the late Lord Owbridge's father a hundred years ago.

FRAYNE.

[_Seeing_ SOPHY.] Why, isn't that the young manicure lady?

MRS. EDEN.

Yes. All these pieces of sculpture are genuine old Italian. This quaint little fountain came from the Villa Marchotti--

FRAYNE.

[_Edging towards_ SOPHY.] Alluring.

MRS. EDEN.

This is the fountain.

FRAYNE.

[_Returning to her_.] Quaint old fountain.

SOPHY.

[_To_ MURIEL, _across the hedge in a whisper._] Darling!

MRS. EDEN.