gs fidget
me, this hot weather--don't they you? Well, just as I'd finished with
Mrs. Jack, it suddenly struck me--my rings!--and I hurried back to fetch
them. When I got here, I came across Lord Quex and the Duchess.

MURIEL.

[_Calmly._] Yes?

SOPHY.

I stooped down behind that hedge there.

MURIEL.

You did not!

SOPHY.

Oh, I suppose you consider it mean!

MURIEL.

Despicable!

SOPHY.

Despicable, is it! I don't care! My goodness, I'd do the shabbiest thing
a woman could do to save you from him!

MURIEL.

[_Peering among the trees._] Hush, hush, hush!

SOPHY.

[_On the verge of tears._] Perhaps you fancy I'm mean from choice?
Perhaps you imagine--?

MURIEL.

Be quiet, Sophy!

SOPHY.

[_Giving a sniff and lowering her voice._] Well, here they were,
standing exactly where you are, close to each other. [MURIEL _changes
her position._] I saw her touch his arm. Oh, I'm positive there's
something between those two! "You will?" I heard her say. And then he
made a remark about Friday--Friday--

MURIEL.

The Duchess goes on Friday.

SOPHY.

That was it, of course! And then she mumbled something I couldn't catch;
and then--listen to this!--then she said "to-night," quite plainly.
_To-night!_ and in such a tone of voice! And then he bowed, and out she
came with "to-night" again--"to-night," for the second time--and away
she went. Now, what do you think that "to-night" of hers means?

MURIEL.

[_Coldly, seating herself upon the bench._] Nothing--anything.

SOPHY.

Nothing!

MURIEL.

A hundred topics of conversation would lead to such an expression.
[_Looking at_ SOPHY _steadily._] You are mistaken in the construction
you put upon it.

SOPHY.

[_Quietly._] Mistaken, am I?

MURIEL.

[_With clenched hands._] The Duchess of Strood is a most immaculate
woman. [_Suddenly._] Oh, it would be too infamous!

[_The_ DUCHESS _and_ FRAYNE, _followed by_ MRS. EDEN, _reappear behind
the low hedge._ SOPHY _retreats to the back of the bench upon which_
MURIEL _is sitting. The_ DUCHESS _and_ FRAYNE _approach, talking,
while_ MRS. EDEN _chats to_ SOPHY _across the hedge._

FRAYNE.

[_To the_ DUCHESS, _gallantly._] I am flattered by your remembrance of
me, Duchess. When we last met I had hardly a grey hair in my head.
[_Running his hand through his hair._] Ha! The West Coast--!

DUCHESS.

Is the climate so terrible?

FRAYNE.

Deadly. But the worst of it is, [_with a bow and a sigh_]