QUEX.

[_Recognising_ BASTLING _and greeting him._] Hallo, Napier! how are you?

BASTLING.

[_Shaking hands with_ QUEX.] Hallo, Quex!

QUEX.

What are you doing here?

SOPHY.

[_To_ POLLITT.] Phew! I hope to goodness Lord Quex won't tumble to anything.

POLLITT.

Tumble--to what?

[QUEX _introduces_ BASTLING _to_ FRAYNE.

SOPHY.

You don't understand; it's Captain Bastling--the man Muriel is really fond of.

POLLITT.

What, while she's engaged--?

SOPHY.

[_With clenched hands._] Yes, and she shall marry him too, my darling shall, if I can help to bring it about.

POLLITT.

You?

SOPHY.

Bless 'em, I don't know how they'd contrive without me!

POLLITT.

Contrive--?

SOPHY.

[_Fondly._] You old stupid! whenever Muriel is coming to be manicured she sends Captain Bastling a warning overnight; [_squeezing_ POLLITT'S _arm, roguishly_] this kind of thing--"My heart is heavy and my nails are long. To-morrow--three-thirty." Ha, ha, ha!

POLLITT.

Dearest, let me advise you--

SOPHY.

[_Her hand upon his lips._] Ah, don't lecture! [BASTLING _saunters forward to attract_ SOPHY'S _attention._] Oh--! [_To_ POLLITT, _hurriedly._] Go now. Pop in again by-and-by. [_Caressingly._] Um-m-m!

my love!

[POLLITT _goes out by the window._

SOPHY.

[_Joining_ BASTLING--_formally._] Good day, Captain Bastling.

BASTLING.

Good afternoon, Miss Fullgarney.

SOPHY.

[_Dropping her voice._] She'll be here in a minute.

BASTLING.

[_In low tones_--_making a show of examining the articles on the circular table._] Yes, I had a note from her this morning. [_Glancing at_ QUEX.] Confounded nuisance--!

SOPHY.

[_Pretending to display the articles._] It's all right; he's got to take Lady Owbridge and Mrs. Jack Eden to look at Moses in the Bulrushes--a picture--

BASTLING.

Sophy--I've bad news.

SOPHY.

No! what?

BASTLING.

My regiment is ordered to Hong-Kong.

SOPHY.

Great heavens! when are you off?

BASTLING.

In a fortnight.