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[_Decidedly._] I say I cannot!
QUEX.
[_To himself, with a little groan._] Oh! phew!
[_He walks to and fro impatiently, reflecting._ SOPHY, _without her hat, comes quickly down the steps as if making for the table. Seeing_ QUEX _and the_ d.u.c.h.eSS, _she draws back, inquisitively._
QUEX.
[_By the_ d.u.c.h.eSS'S _side again, helplessly._] Well, I--ha!--I--
d.u.c.h.eSS.
[_Rising eagerly, laying a hand upon his arm._] You _will_?
[SOPHY _stoops down behind the dwarf cypress-hedge._
QUEX.
You are certain--certain that this would effectually remove the obstacle to your rejoining--[_with a wave of the hand_] on Friday?
d.u.c.h.eSS.
Why, do you think I would risk an anticlimax? [_In an intense whisper._]
To-night! [_Louder._] To-night? [_He hesitates a little longer--then bows in a.s.sent, stiffly and coldly. She gives an ardent sigh._] Ah--!
[_He retreats a step or two. She draws herself up with dignity._]
To-night then--
[_She turns from him and glides away through the trees. He stands for a moment, a frown upon his face, in thought._
QUEX.
[_Suddenly, moving in the direction she has taken._] No, no! d.u.c.h.ess--!
[_A gong sounds in the distance, he pauses, looking at his watch, angrily._] Ptshah! [_He turns up the stage and discovers_ SOPHY, _who is now standing behind the hedge._] Hallo! [SOPHY _advances, laughing rather foolishly._] What are you doing here?
SOPHY.
Looking for my rings. I took them off before I began manicuring you.
QUEX.
[_Pointing to the hedge._] You didn't drop them there, did you?
SOPHY.
No, I left them on the table.
QUEX.
[_Looking towards the table._] _There's_ the table.
SOPHY.
[_Coming to the table and putting on her rings_.] Yes, I know.
QUEX.
[_After a short pause._] How long have you been here?
SOPHY.
I? Oh, I'd just come as you spoke to me.
QUEX.
[_Half-satisfied._] Oh--?
[_He goes up the steps, gives her a parting look, and, disappears. It is now twilight._ MRS. EDEN, FRAYNE, _and_ MURIEL--_all dressed for dinner--appear on the other side of the low hedge._
MRS. EDEN.
[_To_ FRAYNE, _walking with him above the hedge._] Delightful, isn't it?
It was planted by the late Lord Owbridge's father a hundred years ago.
FRAYNE.
[_Seeing_ SOPHY.] Why, isn't that the young manicure lady?
MRS. EDEN.
Yes. All these pieces of sculpture are genuine old Italian. This quaint little fountain came from the Villa Marchotti--
FRAYNE.
[_Edging towards_ SOPHY.] Alluring.
MRS. EDEN.
This is the fountain.
FRAYNE.
[_Returning to her_.] Quaint old fountain.
SOPHY.
[_To_ MURIEL, _across the hedge in a whisper._] Darling!
MRS. EDEN.
