doing here?

SOPHY.

The housekeeper gave him permission to sleep here. You know! [_Stamping
her foot._] Don't you know?

QUEX.

[_Sitting up, alertly._] Ho! my jealous friend, the palmist. _He_ is on
the premises, hey?

SOPHY.

[_Distractedly._] Let me out! oh, yes, he _is_ jealous of me; he _is_
jealous of me, and we've had a few words about you as it is--

QUEX.

Ah!

SOPHY.

Oh, this would ruin me with Valma! oh, if your lordship hasn't any
feeling for me, don't let Valma think that I'm a--that I'm--! [_Going
down on her knees before him._] Oh, I won't tell on you! I promise I
won't, if you'll only let me go! I will hold my tongue about you and the
Duchess! I take my solemn oath I'll hold my tongue!

QUEX.

[_Rising._] Ha! [_Calmly._] No, my dear Sophy, I wasn't aware that your
_fiance_ is in the house. So the situation comes home to you a little
more poignantly now, does it?

SOPHY.

[_Rising and going to the passage-door._] Unlock the door! where's the
key?

QUEX.

Wait, wait, wait! And you're going to keep your mouth shut after all,
are you?

SOPHY.

[_Rattling the door-handle._] Yes, yes, Unlock it!

QUEX.

Don't be in such a hurry.

SOPHY.

I give you my sacred word--

QUEX.

[_Thoughtfully._] Tsch, tsch, tsch! [_Sharply, with a snap of the
fingers._] Yes--by Jove--! [_Pointing to the chair by the
writing-table._] Sit down. [_Imperatively._] Sit down. [_She sits,
wonderingly. He goes to the table, selects a plain sheet of paper and
lays it before her. Then he hands her a pen._] Write as I tell you.

SOPHY.

[_Tremblingly._] What?

QUEX.

[_Pointing to the ink._] Ink. [_Dictating._] "My lord." [_She writes; he
walks about as he dictates._] "My lord. I am truly obliged to you--"

SOPHY

Yes.

QUEX.

"For your great liberality--"

SOPHY.

[_Turning._] Eh?

QUEX.

[_Sternly._] Go on. [_She writes._] "For your great liberality, and in
once more availing myself of it I quite understand--"

SOPHY.

[_Weakly._] Oh! [_After writing._] Yes.

QUEX.

"I quite understand that our friendship comes to an end." [_She rises
and faces him._] Go on.

SOPHY.

Our friendship!

QUEX.

Yes.

SOPHY.

Our--_friendship_!

QUEX.

Yes.

SOPHY.

I won't.

QUEX.

Very well.

SOPHY.

How dare you try to make me write such a thing! [_He turns from her and,
book in hand, resumes his recumbent position on the sofa. She approaches
him, falteringly._] What