The Gay Lord Quex | Page 5

gracious!
POLLITT.
What's the matter?
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.
SOPHY.
Oh, my poor darling!
BASTLING.
I must see her again to-morrow. I've something serious to propose to her.
SOPHY.
[_Half in eagerness, half in fright._] Have you?
BASTLING.
But to-morrow it must be alone, Sophy; I can't say what I have to say in a few hasty whispers, with all your girls flitting about--and perhaps a customer or two here. Alone!
SOPHY.
Without me?
BASTLING.
Surely you can trust us. To-morrow at twelve. You'll manage it?
SOPHY.
How can I--alone?
BASTLING.
You're our only friend. Think!
SOPHY.
[_Glancing suddenly towards the left._] Valma's rooms!
[FRAYNE _has wandered to the back of the circular table, and, through his eyeglass, is again observing_ SOPHY. QUEX _now joins him._
BASTLING.
[_Perceiving them--to_ SOPHY.] Look out!
SOPHY.
[_Taking a bottle from his hand--raising her voice._] You'll receive the perfume in the course of the afternoon. [_Replacing the bottle upon the table._] Shall I do your nails?
BASTLING.
Thanks.
[_They move away. He takes his place in the screen-chair; she sits facing him. During the process of manicuring they talk together earnestly._
FRAYNE.
[Eyeing SOPHY.] Slim, but shapely. Slim, but shapely.
MISS MOON _enters, with a bowl of water. Having adjusted the bowl upon the arm of the screen-chair, she retires._
FRAYNE.
There's another of 'em. Plain. [Watching MISS MOON _as she goes out._] I don't know--rather alluring. [Finding QUEX _by his side._] Beg your pardon.
QUEX.
Didn't hear you.
FRAYNE.
Glad of it. At the same time, old friend, you will forgive me for remarking that a man's virtuous resolutions must be--ha, ha!--somewhat feeble, hey?--when he flinches at the mere admiration of beauty on the part of a pal, connoisseur through that pal undoubtedly is.
QUEX.
Oh, my dear Chick, my resolutions are firm enough.
FRAYNE.
[_Dubiously._] H'm!
QUEX.
And my prudery is consistent with the most laudable intentions, I assure you. But the fact is, dear chap, I go in fear and trembling--
FRAYNE.
Ah!
QUEX.
No, no, not for my strength of mind--fear lest any trivial act of mine, however guileless; the most innocent glance in the direction of a decent-looking woman; should be misinterpreted by the good ladies in whose hands I have placed myself--especially aunt Julia. You remember Lady Owbridge?
FRAYNE.
Why did you intrust yourself--?
QUEX.
My one chance! [Taking FRAYNE _to the table, against which they both lean shoulder to shoulder--his voice falling into a strain of tenderness._] Chick, when I fell in love with Miss Eden--
FRAYNE.
[_In sentimental retrospection._] Fell in love! what memories are awakened by the dear old phrase!
QUEX.
[_Dryly._] Yes. Will you talk about your love affairs, Chick, or shall I--?
FRAYNE.
Certainly--you. Go on, Harry.
QUEX.
When I proposed marriage to Miss Eden--it was at the hunt-ball at Stanridge--
FRAYNE.
[_His eyes sparkling._] Did you select a retired corner--with flowers--by any chance?
QUEX.
There were flowers.
FRAYNE.
I know--I know! Nearly twenty years ago, and the faint scent of the Gardenia Florida remains in my nostrils!
QUEX.
Quite so. Would you like to--?
FRAYNE.
[_Sitting._] No, no--you. Excuse me. You go on.
QUEX.
[_Sitting on the edge of the table, looking down upon_ FRAYNE.] When I proposed to Miss Eden I was certain--even while I was stammering it out--I was certain that my infernal evil character--
FRAYNE.
Ah, yes. I've always been a dooced deal more artful than you, Harry, over my little amours. [_Chuckling._] Ha, ha! devilish cunning!
QUEX.
And I was right. Her first words were, "Think of your life; how can you ask this of me?"--her first words and her last, that evening. I was desperate, Chick, for I--Well, I'm hit, you know.
FRAYNE.
What did you do?
QUEX.
Came to town by the first train in the morning--drove straight off to Richmond, to my pious aunt. Found her in bed with asthma; I got her up.