The Gay Lord Quex | Page 8

Arthur Wing Pinero
_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, when he tipped her. She told me what he said.
MURIEL.
What did he say?
SOPHY.
He said, "There's a little something for yourself, my girl."
MURIEL.
[_Starting to her feet and walking away._] My heavens! a Maid! what
next am I to hear--his _blanchisseuse_? [_Sinking into a chair._] Oh!
oh, dear!
SOPHY.
[Turning in her chair to face MURIEL.] It's one thing I always meant
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