foreground, on the right towards the centre,
stands a stone bench, on the left of which is a table upon which are the
remains of "afternoon tea," with a garden chair. A similar stone bench
stands opposite._

_The light is that of a very fine evening._

[LADY OWBRIDGE _is in the garden-chair, asleep, an open book in her
lap._ QUEX _and_ MURIEL _stand, talking together, by the fountain. On
the right-hand stone bench the_ DUCHESS OF STROOD _and_ MRS. EDEN
_are seated. The_ DUCHESS _is a daintily beautiful doll of
about seven-and-thirty--a_ poseuse, _outwardly dignified and stately
when upon her guard, really a frail, shallow little creature full of
extravagant sentimentality. Until_ LADY OWBRIDGE _wakes, the
conversation is carried on in subdued tones._

MRS. EDEN.

[_Indicating_ MURIEL _and_ QUEX.] They make a fascinating couple, don't
they, Duchess?

DUCHESS.

[_With placid melancholy._] To see two people on the threshold of
wedlock is always painfully interesting.

MRS. EDEN.

I am quite triumphant about it. It is such a delightful engagement, now
that the horrid difficulties are smoothed away.

DUCHESS.

Yes, you were telling me of some sad obstacles--

MRS. EDEN.

I nearly perished of them! [_Very confidentially._] There's no doubt,
you know, that his past _has_ been exceptionally naughty.

DUCHESS.

Really? Ah! don't be surprised that I am not more deeply shocked. In
these surroundings it is hard to realise that every aspect of life is
not as lovely as--[_pointing to the foliage_] the tones of those
exquisite, deep greens, for example.

MRS. EDEN.

However, the dear thing is going to be _so_ good in the future.
[_Turning to the_ DUCHESS.] I keep forgetting--Lord Quex is a very old
friend of yours?

DUCHESS.

[_Serenely._] An acquaintance of many years' standing. But since his
Grace has been an invalid we have lived much abroad, or in seclusion,
and gossip has not reached us. Alas, you find me a ready subject _a
desillusionner_! [_Rising._] We are in the sun. Shall we walk?

MRS. EDEN.

[_Sympathetically, as they walk._] Is his Grace still very unwell?

DUCHESS.

[_Smiling sadly upon_ MRS. EDEN.] He is still over seventy.

[_They wander away, through the trees, as_ QUEX _and_ MURIEL _leave the
fountain._

QUEX.

[_With tender playfulness, first glancing at the sleeping_ LADY
OWBRIDGE.] And so all these good things are to befall me after
to-morrow?

MURIEL.

[_In a low voice._