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_ d.u.c.h.eSS] "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 d.a.m.ned 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.