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QUEX.
[_Recognising_ BASTLING _and greeting him._] Hallo, Napier! how are you?
BASTLING.
[_Shaking hands with_ QUEX.] Hallo, Quex!
QUEX.
What are you doing here?
SOPHY.
[_To_ POLLITT.] Phew! I hope to goodness Lord Quex won't tumble to anything.
POLLITT.
Tumble--to what?
[QUEX _introduces_ BASTLING _to_ FRAYNE.
SOPHY.
You don't understand; it's Captain Bastling--the man Muriel is really fond of.
POLLITT.
What, while she's engaged--?
SOPHY.
[_With clenched hands._] Yes, and she shall marry him too, my darling shall, if I can help to bring it about.
POLLITT.
You?
SOPHY.
Bless 'em, I don't know how they'd contrive without me!
POLLITT.
Contrive--?
SOPHY.
[_Fondly._] You old stupid! whenever Muriel is coming to be manicured she sends Captain Bastling a warning overnight; [_squeezing_ POLLITT'S _arm, roguishly_] this kind of thing--"My heart is heavy and my nails are long. To-morrow--three-thirty." Ha, ha, ha!
POLLITT.
Dearest, let me advise you--
SOPHY.
[_Her hand upon his lips._] Ah, don't lecture! [BASTLING _saunters forward to attract_ SOPHY'S _attention._] Oh--! [_To_ POLLITT, _hurriedly._] Go now. Pop in again by-and-by. [_Caressingly._] Um-m-m!
my love!
[POLLITT _goes out by the window._
SOPHY.
[_Joining_ BASTLING--_formally._] Good day, Captain Bastling.
BASTLING.
Good afternoon, Miss Fullgarney.
SOPHY.
[_Dropping her voice._] She'll be here in a minute.
BASTLING.
[_In low tones_--_making a show of examining the articles on the circular table._] Yes, I had a note from her this morning. [_Glancing at_ QUEX.] Confounded nuisance--!
SOPHY.
[_Pretending to display the articles._] It's all right; he's got to take Lady Owbridge and Mrs. Jack Eden to look at Moses in the Bulrushes--a picture--
BASTLING.
Sophy--I've bad news.
SOPHY.
No! what?
BASTLING.
My regiment is ordered to Hong-Kong.
SOPHY.
Great heavens! when are you off?
BASTLING.
In a fortnight.
