[_Cowering over the settee._] Oh!

QUEX.

[_Recovering himself._] Oh, you did, did you?

SOPHY.

[_Facing him defiantly._] Yes, I did.

QUEX.

[_Coolly._] Well? and what then? You listen to a conversation carried on in an open spot, from which your mischievous ears manage to detach the phrase "to-night." My explanation, if I am called upon to make one, will be absurdly simple.

SOPHY.

[_Derisively._] Ha, ha! will it! ha, ha, ha! I daresay!

QUEX.

Yes. You see, I promised her Grace that I would send a book to her room to-night--_to-night_. My man had gone to bed; I brought it myself, intending to hand it to Mrs. Watson, her maid. In the meantime, the d.u.c.h.ess had joined Mrs. Eden and I found _you_ here.

SOPHY.

You couldn't tell such an abominable lie!

QUEX.

[_Imperturbably._] I found _you_ here. And then--what is the obvious sequel to the story? [_Shrugging his shoulders._] I'm a wicked man, Sophy, and you're an undeniably pretty girl--and the devil dared me.

SOPHY.

Oh--!

QUEX.

[_Taking up the bottle of champagne._] And an excellent banquet you had chanced to provide for the occasion. [_Reading the label._] "Felix Poubelle, Carte d'Or." It will appear, I am afraid, that you had been preparing for the entertainment of some amorous footman.

SOPHY.

[_Snapping her fingers at him._] Puh! bah! Oh, the whole house shall know that that is your d.u.c.h.ess's champagne.

QUEX.

Excuse me--Mr. Brewster, the butler, will disprove that tale. You wheedled this out of him on your own account, remember.

SOPHY.

[_Disconcerted._] Oh--ah, yes--but--

QUEX.

For yourself, my dear Sophy.

SOPHY.

[_Falteringly._] Yes, but--but she made me do it.

QUEX.

She made you do it! [_Replacing the bottle, sternly._] And who, pray, will accept your word, upon this or any other point, against that of a lady of the position of the d.u.c.h.ess of Strood?

[_He walks away from her and examines the books upon the writing-table.

She sits on the settee, a blank expression upon her face._

SOPHY.

[_After a little consideration, wiping her brow with the back of her hand._] At any rate, my darling--Miss Muriel--would quickly see through a horrid trick of this sort.

QUEX.

I bet you a dozen boxes of gloves to a case of your manicure instruments that she doesn't.

SOPHY.

I said to her to-day, at my place, that I was certain, if I could meet you alone in some quiet spot I could get a kiss out of you.

QUEX.

[_Under his breath, glaring at her._] You--! [_Coolly._] Oh, now I understand. Yes, my dear, but Miss Eden is scarcely likely to believe that a modest girl would carry her devotion to this extent. Good heavens! why, your attire--! [_She pulls her robe about her sharply._]

And a woman who compromises herself, recollect, is never measured by her own character, always by her companion's.

[_She starts to her feet and paces the room, uttering cries of anger and indignation. He continues to interest himself in the books._

SOPHY.

Oh! no, no! my darling wouldn't think it of me! when I've abused you so continually! she surely couldn't! oh! oh! [_With flashing eyes._] Now, look here, my lord! you don't really imagine that I'm going to stick in this room with you patiently all through the night, do you?

QUEX.

How do you propose to avoid it?

SOPHY.

[_Pointing to the pa.s.sage-door._] As true as I'm alive, if you don't unlock that door, I--I--I'll scream the place down!

QUEX.

Why scream? [_Pointing to the bell-rope which hangs beside the door._]

There's the bell. I daresay a servant or two is still up and about.