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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 to keep to myself.
MURIEL.
[_Bitterly._] Still, I have promised to forgive him for so much already!
And, after all, this occurred a long while ago.
SOPHY.
[_Thoughtfully._] Ye--e--es. I suppose if you _did_ find him up to anything of that sort now, you'd--what would you do?
MURIEL.
Do! [_With all her heart._] Marry Napier Bastling.
SOPHY.
[_Rising--a mischievous light in her eyes._] Ah--! I almost wish it _would_ happen!
MURIEL.
Sophy!
SOPHY.
[_Leaning against the edge of the circular table, gripping_ MURIEL'S _hand._] Just for your sake, darling. [_In a low voice._] I almost wish _I_ could come across him in some quiet little shady spot--
MURIEL.
[_Looking up at_ SOPHY, _horrified._] What!
SOPHY.
In one of those greeny nooks you've told me of, at Fauncey Court.
[_Between her teeth._] If he ever tried to kiss _me_, and I told you of it, you'd take my word for it, wouldn't you?
MURIEL.
[_Starting to her feet._] For shame! how dare you let such an idea enter your head? you, a respectable girl, just engaged yourself--!
SOPHY.
[_With a quick look towards the window._] Oh, yes! hush! [_Clapping her hand to her mouth._] Oh, what would Valma say if he knew I'd talked in this style!
[_The door-gong sounds._
MURIEL
Here they are.
SOPHY.
[_As they hastily return to their chairs._] Darling, I was only thinking of you and the poor Captain. [_With another glance towards the window._]
Phew! if my Valma knew!
[_They resume their seats, and the manicuring is continued._
MISS LIMBIRD _enters, preceding_ LORD QUEX _and the_ COUNTESS OF OWBRIDGE, MRS. JACK EDEN _and_ FRAYNE. MISS MOON _follows._ LADY OWBRIDGE _is a very old lady in a mouse-coloured wig, with a pale, anxious face, watery eyes, and no eyebrows._ MRS. EDEN _is an ultra-fashionably-dressed woman of about thirty, shrill and_ maniere.
QUEX.
[_To_ LADY OWBRIDGE, _who is upon his arm._] Yes, a curious phase of modern life. Many people come to these places for rest.
LADY OWBRIDGE.
[_Looking about her shrinkingly._] For rest, Henry?
QUEX.
Certainly. I know a woman--I _knew_ a woman who used to declare that her sole repose during the Season was the half-hour with the manicurist.
MRS. EDEN.
How are you, Sophy?
SOPHY.
