Naturally.

MISS HUDDLE.

So should I, though I'm quite new here.

MISS MOON.

It never gives _me_ any pleasure to hear of people having their limbs crushed.

MISS HUDDLE.

Or being murdered by tramps.

MISS MOON.

Won't your lordship take a chair? [_To_ FRAYNE, _who has wandered down to the window._] And you, sir?

[_The young gentleman, his manicuring being finished, has risen, paid_ MISS LIMBIRD _and departed, followed by_ MISS CLARIDGE _carrying her bowl and towel. The door-gong sounds._

QUEX.

Is that she?

MISS MOON.

No; that young gentleman leaving.

[MISS MOON, _carrying her bowl and towel, and_ MISS HUDDLE, _after exchanging a few words with_ MISS LIMBIRD, _withdraw._

FRAYNE.

[_To_ QUEX, _biliously._] How revoltingly hideous these gals look this morning!

QUEX.

Same as yesterday. You're seedy.

FRAYNE.

[_Closing his eyes._] Oh, shockingly seedy. [_Sitting._] I'm in for a go of malaria, I fear.

QUEX.

Shame of me to have routed you out of bed and bothered you with my affairs. [_Sitting._] But you can quite understand, Chick, how confoundedly anxious I am as to the att.i.tude Miss Fullgarney will adopt towards me to-day.

FRAYNE.

Quite, quite. Harry--

QUEX.

Yes?

FRAYNE.

_What_ champagne was it we drank last night at Richmond?

QUEX.

[_With some bitterness._] Ha! Felix Poubelle, Carte d'Or.

FRAYNE.

[_Shaking his head._] _I_ can't take champagne.

QUEX.

_Can't_ you!

FRAYNE.

I mean I oughtn't to.

QUEX.

Oh. [_Referring to his watch again._] I've given you a pretty minute account of last night's tragedy, Chick. "I'll do what I can for you"--those were the Fullgarney's words. Good lord, they came at me like a bolt from the blue! Does she intend to act up to them, eh?--that's the question. Surely she'll act up to them, Chick?

FRAYNE.

Have you met the ladies this morning?

QUEX.

Yes--except Muriel, who didn't show at breakfast.

FRAYNE.

How did you find 'em?

QUEX.

Amiability itself; _they_ know nothing. [_Rising and looking down upon_ FRAYNE.] You see, Chick, all that Miss Fullgarney has to do--if she hasn't already done it--is to tell a trifling taradiddle to Muriel concerning the events of last night. Well, in effect, she has promised to do that, hasn't she? [_Impatiently._] Eh?

FRAYNE.

[_Gloomily._] Frankly, Harry, I shouldn't be in the least surprised if the jade sold you.

QUEX.