His rank! ha! do you think his lordship has ever let
_that_ interfere--?

[_She checks herself, finding_ MURIEL _staring at her._

MURIEL.

[_In horror._] Sophy!

SOPHY.

[_Discomposed--rising._] Er--if I'm to do anything to your nails--

[_As_ SOPHY _is moving towards the manicure-table,_ MURIEL _intercepts
her._

MURIEL.

You are surely not suggesting that Lord Quex has ever descended--?

SOPHY.

[_Hastily._] No, no, no. [_Brushing past_ MURIEL _and seating herself
before the screen-chair_.] Come; they'll all be here directly.

MURIEL.

[_Sitting in the screen-chair._] Sophy, you have heard some story--

SOPHY.

[_Examining_ MURIEL'S _hands._] A little varnishing is all you need
to-day.

MURIEL.

You shall tell me!

SOPHY.

[_Proceeding with her work methodically._] It's nothing much; I'm sorry
I--

MURIEL.

[_Imperatively._] Sophy!

SOPHY.

[_Reluctantly._] Oh, well--well, when I was at Mrs. Beaupoint's in
Grosvenor Street--

MURIEL.

Yes?

SOPHY.

A Lady Pumphrey came to stay there with a goodish-looking maid--Edith
Smith her name was--

MURIEL.

Never mind her name!

SOPHY.

And they'd lately met Lord Quex in a country house in Worcestershire.
Well, he had kissed _her_--Smith admitted it.

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--