DGE--_in a
quiet voice._] Or I, my lady?

LADY OWBRIDGE.

You, my dear?

SOPHY.

Why shouldn't _I_ attend upon her Grace to-night and in the morning?
[_With half a courtesy to the_ DUCHESS.] I should dearly like to have
the honour.

[MURIEL _comes forward, staring at_ SOPHY.

MRS. EDEN.

Now, that's very proper and good-natured of you, Sophy.

LADY OWBRIDGE.

But, Miss Fullgarney--

SOPHY.

[_Modestly._] Oh, I never feel like Miss Fullgarney out of my business,
my lady. You see, I was maid for years, and it's second nature to me.
Do let me, my lady--do, your Grace!

LADY OWBRIDGE.

Duchess--?

DUCHESS.

[_Hesitatingly._] Oh--oh, by all means. [_To_ SOPHY.] Thank you.

[_The gong sounds in the distance again, as_ QUEX--_now in
evening-dress--and_ FRAYNE _return together, above the hedge._

LADY OWBRIDGE.

Here is Quex.

[_The ladies, except_ MURIEL, _join_ FRAYNE _and_ QUEX.

MURIEL.

[_To_ SOPHY.] What are you doing?

SOPHY.

[_Breathlessly._] The housekeeper showed me over the house. I
remember--her maid's room is at the end of a passage leading from the
boudoir!

MURIEL.

Sophy, you must not! you sha'n't!

SOPHY.

Why, isn't it for the best? If I was mistaken over what I heard just
now, I sha'n't see or hear anything wicked to-night; and that will
satisfy both of us--!

LADY OWBRIDGE.

[_Calling._] Muriel--

[MURIEL _joins the group;_ SOPHY _slips away and disappears._

LADY OWBRIDGE.

[_To the_ DUCHESS.] Shall we go in?

[LADY OWBRIDGE _and the_ DUCHESS, _and_ MRS. EDEN _and_ MURIEL, _ascend
the steps and go towards the house. Instead, of following the ladies,_
QUEX _turns sharply and comes forward with an angry, sullen look upon
his face._

FRAYNE.

[_Looking round for_ QUEX.] Hallo, Harry! [_Coming to_ QUEX.] Aren't
you--?

QUEX.

Hang dinner! I don't want to eat.

FRAYNE.

Anything wrong, old man? anything I--?

QUEX.

[_Shaking himself up._] No, no; nothing--the hot weather. Come along; we
mustn't be late for grace. [_Boisterously._] At any rate, a glass of
champagne--[_slapping_ FRAYNE _on the back_] a glass or two of Felix
Poubelle, hey? Felix Poubelle, Carte d'Or! ha, ha, ha!

[_As they turn to go, they see_ SOPHY _on the other side of the low
hedge, looking at them steadily._

QUEX.

[_To_ FRAYNE, _quietly._] Wait!

[_They stand still, while_ SOPHY _very demurely walks to the steps,
ascends them, and disappears._

QUEX.

[_In an alter