_then returns to her desk._ QUEX _goes to_
LADY OWBRIDGE, _takes her arm, and leads her forward._] Aunt Julia!
aunt! my dear aunt Julia!

[_The_ DUCHESS _joins_ FRAYNE. MRS. EDEN _comes to_ MURIEL _and receives
the news of the hastened marriage._ SOPHY _moves away to the window._

QUEX.

[_Excitedly, to_ LADY OWBRIDGE.] Oh, my dear aunt!

LADY OWBRIDGE.

What ails you, Henry?

QUEX.

Muriel! she--she--she's going to marry me!

LADY OWBRIDGE.

I hope so.

QUEX.

But at the end of the Season! a month hence! a month, a month, a month!

LADY OWBRIDGE.

My dear boy! Heaven prosper your union! Muriel--

MRS. EDEN.

[_To_ LADY OWBRIDGE.] Isn't this glorious news, Lady Owbridge? But I
always thought it unwise to protract the engagement. You never know
_what_ may happen, do you? I must tell the dear Duchess--

[_She joins the_ DUCHESS _and_ FRAYNE, _and chatters to them._

LADY OWBRIDGE.

[_To_ MURIEL, _in a low voice._] Muriel, you are right. In this life, if
you have anything to pardon, pardon quickly. Slow forgiveness is little
better than no forgiveness.

MRS. EDEN.

[_Coming to_ QUEX.] Congratulate you.

QUEX.

Thanks.

[LADY OWBRIDGE _moves away, joining the_ DUCHESS, _as_ MRS. EDEN
_returns to_ MURIEL.

MRS. EDEN.

[_Kissing_ MURIEL.] You sensible girl!

[FRAYNE _comes to_ QUEX.

FRAYNE.

[_To_ QUEX, _mournfully._] Old chap, this is shockingly sudden.

QUEX.

Ha, ha!

FRAYNE.

However, we must contrive, you and I, to pass one more evening together
before the event.

QUEX.

One! many!

FRAYNE.

No, no, I mean a buster, Harry; a regular night of it--

QUEX.

Good lord! go away!

[MRS. EDEN _joins_ LADY OWBRIDGE _as_ FRAYNE _advances to_ MURIEL.

FRAYNE.

[_Taking_ MURIEL'S _hand._] Dear young lady, you are about to become the
wife of one of the best. There are not many of us left; we are a
dwindling band, Miss Eden--

[_The_ DUCHESS _comes to_ QUEX.

DUCHESS.

[_To_ QUEX, _softly._] Sincere congratulations. [_He bows stiffly._] At
any time, you know, when you return to England--

QUEX.

[_Eyeing her sternly._] Yes?

DUCHESS.

After your honeymoon--

QUEX.

Yes?

DUCHESS.

Should you feel _ennuye_--

QUEX.

I!

DUCHESS.

The air at Burwarton never failed to exhilarate you. So pray do not
forget--

QUEX.

[_Indignantly._] Duchess!

DUCHESS.

[_Sweetly._] That poor dear Strood would be pleased to see you. [FRAYNE
_joins_ LADY OWBRI