The Gay Lord Quex | Page 7

sort of thing. [_Glancing round apprehensively._] Oh!
BASTLING.
Don't be frightened. Sophy's there.
MURIEL.
I'm nervous--shaky. When I wrote to you last night I thought I should be able to sneak up to town this morning only with a maid. And you've met Quex too!
BASTLING.
None of them suspect--?
MURIEL.
No. Oh, but go now!
BASTLING.
Already! May I not sit and watch you?
MURIEL.
Not to-day.
BASTLING.
You must hear my news, then, from Sophy; she'll tell you--
MURIEL.
News?
SOPHY.
[_Turning to them sharply._] Hsst!
MURIEL.
Good-bye!
BASTLING.
[_Grasping her arm._] Haven't you one loving little speech for me?
SOPHY.
[_Behind the table._] Gar--r--rh!
[He releases MURIEL _and picks up a large wooden bowl of bath-soap, just as_ MISS LIMBIRD _re-enters with the hot water._ MURIEL _moves away, hastily._
SOPHY.
[To BASTLING, _taking the soap from him--raising her voice._] Thank you--much obliged. [Transferring the soap to MISS LIMBIRD _and relieving her of the bowl of water._] For Captain Bastling, with a bottle of Fleur de Lilas.
[MISS LIMBIRD _returns to her desk;_ SOPHY _deposits the bowl of water upon the arm of the screen-chair;_ BASTLING _fetches his hat, and gives some directions to_ MISS LIMBIRD.
MURIEL.
[To SOPHY, _in a whisper._] Sophy, these extravagances on his part! I am the cause of them! he is not in the least well off!
SOPHY.
Don't worry; it's all booked. Ha, ha! bless him, he'll never get his account from me! [BASTLING, with a parting glance in the direction of MURIEL and SOPHY, _goes out._] He's gone.
[MISS LIMBIRD _also goes out, carrying the bowl of bath-soap._
MURIEL.
[_With a sigh of relief._] Oh!
SOPHY.
[_Coming to her._] We're by ourselves for a minute. Give me a good hug. [_Embracing her._] My dear! my darling! ha, ha, ha! you shall be the first to hear of it--I'm engaged.
MURIEL.
Sophy! to whom?
SOPHY.
To Mr. Valma, the great palmist.
MURIEL.
What, the young man you've talked to me about--next door? [_Kissing her._] I hope you are doing well for yourself, dear.
SOPHY.
He's simply perfect! he's--! oh, how can I be such a brute, talking of my own happiness--! [_In an altered tone._] Darling, Captain Bastling's regiment is going to be sent off to Hong-Kong.
MURIEL.
[_After a pause--commanding herself._] When?
SOPHY.
In about a fortnight.
MURIEL.
[_Frigidly._] Is this what you had to tell me, from him?
SOPHY.
Yes, and that he must see you to-morrow, alone. I'll arrange it. Can you manage to be here at twelve?
MURIEL.
I daresay, somehow.
SOPHY.
[_Looking at her in surprise._] I thought you'd be more upset.
MURIEL.
[Taking SOPHY'S _hand._] The truth is, Sophy--I'm glad.
SOPHY.
Glad!
MURIEL.
Awfully glad the chance has come of putting an end to all this. Oh, I've been treating him shockingly!
SOPHY.
Him?
MURIEL.
Lord Quex!
SOPHY.
[_Impatiently._] Oh! pooh!
MURIEL.
[Leaving SOPHY.] Yes, after to-morrow he sha'n't find me looking a guilty fool whenever he speaks to me--by Jove, he sha'n't! I believe he guessed I haven't seen Moses in the Bulrushes!
SOPHY.
But, dear, how do you know what Captain Bastling means to say to you to-morrow?
MURIEL.
[_Pausing in her walk._] To say?--good-bye.
SOPHY.
Suppose he asks you to put him out of his misery--marry him directly, on the quiet?
MURIEL.
[_A little unsteadily._] Then I shall tell him finally--my word is given to Lord Quex.
SOPHY.
[_Coming to her again._] Given!--wrung out of you. And just for that you'll lose the chance of being happy--all your life--with the man you--
[_She turns away, and sits, on the right of the circular table, blowing her nose._
MURIEL.
[At SOPHY'S _side, desperately._] But I tell you, Sophy, I love Lord Quex.
SOPHY.
You may tell me.
MURIEL.
I do--I mean, I'm getting to. [_Defiantly._] At any rate, I am proud of him.
SOPHY.
Proud!
MURIEL.
Certainly--proud that he has mended his ways for my sake.
SOPHY.
[_Between tears and anger._] Mended his ways! with those eyes of his!
MURIEL.
[Looking down upon SOPHY, _wonderingly._] His eyes? why, they are considered his best feature.
SOPHY.
I never saw wickeder eyes. All my girls say the same.
MURIEL.
[_With rising indignation._] I am sure you have never detected Lord Quex looking at anybody in a way he should not.
SOPHY.
Oh, I admit he has always behaved in a gentlemanly manner towards me and my girls.
MURIEL.
[_Haughtily._ Towards you and your--! Sophy, pray remember Lord Quex's rank.
SOPHY.
[_In hot scorn._] His rank! ha! do you think his lordship has ever let that interfere--?
[_She checks herself, finding_ MURIEL _staring at her._
MURIEL.
[_In horror._] Sophy!
SOPHY.
[_Discomposed--rising._] Er--if I'm to do anything to your nails--
[As SOPHY _is moving towards the manicure-table,_ MURIEL _intercepts her._
MURIEL.
You are surely not suggesting that Lord Quex has ever descended--?
SOPHY.
[_Hastily._] No, no, no. [Brushing past MURIEL _and seating herself before the screen-chair_.] Come; they'll all be here directly.
MURIEL.
[_Sitting in the screen-chair._] Sophy, you have heard some story--
SOPHY.
[Examining MURIEL'S _hands._] A little varnishing is all you need to-day.
MURIEL.
You shall tell me!
SOPHY.
[_Proceeding with her work methodically._] It's nothing much; I'm sorry I--
MURIEL.
[_Imperatively._] Sophy!
SOPHY.
[_Reluctantly._] Oh, well--well, when I was at Mrs. Beaupoint's in Grosvenor Street--
MURIEL.
Yes?
SOPHY.
A Lady Pumphrey came to stay there with a goodish-looking maid--Edith Smith her name was--
MURIEL.
Never mind her name!
SOPHY.
And they'd lately met Lord Quex in a country house in Worcestershire. Well, he had kissed _her_--Smith admitted it.
MURIEL.
Kissed whom--Lady Pumphrey?
SOPHY.
Oh, of course he'd kissed Lady Pumphrey; but he kissed Smith afterwards,