SOPHY.

[_Indignantly._] Well, of all the liberties--!

QUEX.

[_Angrily._] Frayne!

FRAYNE.

May I tell you of an unfailing remedy--? [_He peeps into the private room, then withdraws his head, and says to_ QUEX.] No.

SOPHY.

[_Flouncing up to_ FRAYNE, _and speaking volubly and violently._] Now, look here, sir, I'm a busy woman--as busy and as hard-working a woman as any in London. Because you see things a bit slack Ascot week, it doesn't follow that my books, and a hundred little matters, don't want attending to. [_Sitting at the desk and opening and closing the books noisily._]

And I'm certainly not going to have gentlemen, whoever they may be, marching into my place, and taking possession of it, and doubting my word, and opening and shutting doors, exactly as if they were staying in a common hotel. I'd have you to know that my establishment isn't conducted on _that_ principle.

[QUEX _has been standing, with compressed lips and a frown upon his face, leaning upon the back of the chair near the circular table.

During_ SOPHY'S _harangue his eyes fall upon the jeweller's case and the sc.r.a.p of paper lying open upon it. He stares at the writing for a moment, then comes to the table and picks up both the case and the paper._

FRAYNE.

[_To_ SOPHY, _while this is going on._] My good lady, a little candour on your part--

SOPHY.

I don't understand what you're hinting at by "a little candour." You've already been told where Miss Eden is, and anybody who knows me knows that if I say a thing--

FRAYNE.

But when your young ladies declare--

SOPHY.

I'm really not responsible for the sayings and doings of a parcel of stupid girls. If they didn't see Miss Eden go out they were asleep, and if they weren't asleep they're blind; and as I've explained till I'm hoa.r.s.e, I'm very busy this morning, and I should be extremely obliged to you two gentlemen if you'd kindly go away and call again a little later.

QUEX.

Chick.

FRAYNE.

Eh?

QUEX.

I want you.

[FRAYNE _comes to_ QUEX, _who hands him the jeweller's case and the slip of paper._

SOPHY.

[_Fussing over her books, oblivious of what is transpiring._] As if the difficulty of conducting a business of this kind isn't sufficient without extra bothers and worries being brought down on one's head! What with one's enormous rent, and rotten debts, it's heartbreaking! Here's a woman here, on my books, who runs an account for fifteen months, with the face of an angel, and no more intends to pay me than to jump over St. Paul's--

QUEX.

[_Who again has possession of the jeweller's case and the paper._] Miss Fullgarney--

SOPHY.

What now, my lord? Upon my word, it is _too_ bad--!

QUEX.

Please come here.

SOPHY.

[_Coming forward--now on the verge of tears._] After such a night as I've had, too. I never could do without my full eight hours--

QUEX.

Be silent!

SOPHY.

What!

QUEX.

Miss Eden and Captain Bastling--

SOPHY.

Eh?

QUEX.

They are acquaintances--friends. [_With a stamp of the foot._] They are on terms of--

SOPHY.

[_Faintly._] Oh!

QUEX.

[_Pointing to the window._] She is with him at this moment--there.

SOPHY.