N.

[_Checking herself._] Oh--!

QUEX.

Popular place of entertainment.

LADY OWBRIDGE.

Ah? The only place of that kind I have visited for some years is the
Imperial Institute.

[MRS. EDEN _rises, laughing to herself, and joins_ SOPHY _and_ MURIEL.
FRAYNE _is now establishing cordial relations between himself and_ MISS
MOON.

MRS. EDEN.

[_To_ SOPHY.] Well, Sophy, and how's your business getting along?

LADY OWBRIDGE.

[_To_ QUEX, _after ascertaining that_ FRAYNE _is not near her._] Oh,
Henry, I have asked Sir Chichester to drive down to us to-night, to
dine.

QUEX.

[_Watching_ FRAYNE _with apprehension._] Ah, yes, delightful. [_Trying
to gain_ FRAYNE'S _attention--warningly._] Phsst! phsst!

LADY OWBRIDGE.

[_Plucking at_ QUEX'S _coat._] I feel that Sir Chichester is a very
wholesome friend for you, Henry.

QUEX.

Very. Phsst!

LADY OWBRIDGE.

What is the name of the West African place?--Uumbos--Uumbos seems to
have improved him vastly.

QUEX.

[_In a low voice._] Chichester!

LADY OWBRIDGE.

And it is our wish that you should associate for the future only with
grey-haired men.

[MISS MOON _now withdraws, with_ FRAYNE _at her heels._

MURIEL.

[_Rising and coming to_ LADY OWBRIDGE.] I'm ready, dear Lady Owbridge.
Look! you can see your face in them.

[LADY OWBRIDGE _rises;_ MURIEL _displays her nails._ LADY OWBRIDGE
_shakes her head gravely, while_ QUEX _bends over_ MURIEL'S _hands
gallantly._

MRS. EDEN.

[_To_ SOPHY.] My hands need trimming up desperately badly. That maid of
mine is a fool at fingers.

SOPHY.

Can't you stay now?

MRS. EDEN.

[_With an impatient movement of the head towards_ LADY OWBRIDGE.] Oh,
lord, no. [_Suddenly._] I say, I wish you'd run down to Richmond, to
Fauncey Court, and do me. Could you?

SOPHY.

[_Innocently._] Oh, yes.

MRS. EDEN.

To-night, before dinner?

SOPHY.

I think I can.

MRS. EDEN.

[_To_ LADY OWBRIDGE.] Lady Owbridge, Miss Fullgarney is coming down to
Richmond this evening to manicure me. Do, do, do let her give your nails
the fashionable cut. [_Going to_ QUEX _and_ MURIEL.] Everybody is
wearing pointed nails this Season.

LADY OWBRIDGE.

[_Advancing to_ SOPHY.] Ah, no, no. These practices are somewhat
shocking to an old woman. [_To_ SOPHY.] But I don't blame you. [_Laying
her hand upon_ SOPHY'S _arm, kindly._] So you're Miss Eden's
foster-sister, eh?

SOPHY.

I've that honour, my lady.

LADY OWBRIDGE.