to your Grace--

DUCHESS.

Yes, you have thanked me enough. Turn out the lamp in that passage.

SOPHY.

Certainly, your Grace.

[SOPHY _disappears, shutting the door after her. The_ DUCHESS _remains
quite still for a moment, then rises promptly, replaces her book,
and--seating herself at the dressing-table--puts her hair in order. This
done, she takes up the hand-mirror and smiles, frowns, and looks
caressingly at herself. Then she lays the hand-mirror aside, blows out
the candles upon the dressing-table, and poses before the cheval-glass.
Ultimately, completely assured as to her appearance, she cautiously
opens the door at which_ SOPHY _has departed, and, going a few steps
along the passage, listens with strained ears. The passage is now in
darkness. Apparently satisfied, the_ DUCHESS _returns, and, closing the
door gently, turns the key in the lock. Her next proceeding is to
attempt to tear one of the ribbons from her tea-gown. Failing in this,
she detaches it with the aid of a pair of scissors, and, opening the
door leading from the corridor, ties the ribbon to the outer
door-handle. Whereupon she closes the door and walks about the room
contentedly. Suddenly she pauses, and, going to the cabinet, produces a
small tray on which are a bottle of champagne and a champagne glass.
Placing the tray on the circular table, she regards the single glass
thoughtfully. Then, as if struck by an idea, she disappears into the
bedroom. After a brief interval, the door opens softly and_ QUEX
_enters, carrying a lighted wax match. Being in, he shuts the door
silently and looks about the room. Hearing the_ DUCHESS _in the
adjoining apartment, he frowns and blows out the match. Coming to the
circular table, he contemplates the preparation for his reception with
distaste; then, flinging the match into the ash-tray, he sits, with a
set, determined look upon his face. After another short pause, the_
DUCHESS _returns, polishing a tumbler with a cambric handkerchief._ QUEX
_rises._

DUCHESS.

[_Under her breath._] Ah! [_He bows stiffly. She places the tumbler on
the tray, tosses the handkerchief aside, and--first motioning him to
stand away from the line of the door--opens the door, removes the ribbon
from the handle, closes and locks it. Then she turns to him with a
long-drawn sigh._] Ah--h--h!

QUEX.

[_Coming down gloomily._] Is it all right?

DUCHESS.

Quite. [_Advancing to him with outstretched hands._] Welcome, Harry! o