The Gay Lord Quex | Page 6

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. And I almost went down on my knees to her, Chick.
FRAYNE.
Not really?
QUEX.
I did--old man as I am! no, I'm not old.
FRAYNE.
Forty-eight. Ha, ha! I'm only forty-five.
QUEX.
But you've had malaria--
FRAYNE.
Dry up, Harry!
QUEX.
So we're quits. Well, down on my marrow-bones I went,
metaphorically, and there and then I made my vows to old aunt Julia,
and craved her help; and she dropped tears on me, Chick, like a mother.
And the result was that within a month I became engaged to Miss Eden.

FRAYNE.
The young lady soon waived her--
QUEX.
[_Getting off the table._] I beg your pardon--the young lady did
nothing of the kind. But with aunt Julia's aid I showed 'em all that it
was a genuine case of done with the old life--a real, genuine instance.
[_Balancing upon the back of the chair._] I've sold my house in
Norfolk Street.
FRAYNE.
You'll want one.
QUEX.
[_Gravely._] Not that one--for Muriel. [_Brightly._] And I'm living
sedately at Richmond, under aunt Julia's wing. Muriel is staying at
Fauncey Court too, just now; she's up from Norfolk for the Season,
chaperoned by Mrs. Jack. [_Sitting, nursing his knee, with a sigh of
content_.] Ah! after all, it's very pleasant to be a good boy.
FRAYNE.
When is it to take place?
QUEX.
At the end of the year; assuming, of course--
FRAYNE.
That you continue to behave prettily? [QUEX _assents, with a wave of
the hand._] The slightest lapse on your part--?
QUEX.
Impossible.
FRAYNE.
But it would--?
QUEX.
[_A little impatiently._] Naturally.
FRAYNE.
Well, six months pass quickly--everywhere but on the West Coast of
Africa.
QUEX.
And then--you shall be my best man, Chick, if you're still home.
FRAYNE.
[_Rising._] Hah! I never thought--
QUEX.

[_Rising._] No; I who always laughed at marriage as a dull depravity
permitted to the respectable classes! I who always maintained that
man's whole duty to woman--meaning his mistresses--that a man's duty
to a woman