comic opera. Then she returns the comb and mirror to the bag
and--bag in hand--prepares to depart. While this is going on_ QUEX
_returns, above the low hedge. He ascends the steps and looks off into
the distance, watching the retreating figure of the_ DUCHESS. _After a
moment or two he shrugs his shoulders in a perplexed, troubled way,
and, coming down the steps, encounters_ SOPHY.
SOPHY.
[_Innocently._] Lovely evening, my lord.
QUEX.
[_Passing her, with a nod and a smile._] Very--very.
[_At the table, he exchanges the newspaper he carries for another. She
is going in the direction indicated by_ MURIEL. _Suddenly she pauses,
above the dwarf cypress-hedge, and stands looking at_ QUEX _with an
expression in which fear and determination are mingled. Having selected
his newspaper,_ QUEX _crosses to the left and sits, reading._
SOPHY.
[_Coming to him._] I don't think I shall go, after all.
QUEX.
[_Lowering his paper._] Eh?
SOPHY.
I was just starting off down to the gates, you know, to meet Mr. Valma.
QUEX.
[_With amiable indifference._] Oh?
SOPHY.
[_Her head upon one side, smiling._] But it's too hot for walking, isn't
it?
QUEX.
[_Resuming his reading._] It is warm.
SOPHY.
[_Putting her bag upon the table and removing her gloves._] Phew!
[_She eyes him askance, undecided, as to a plan of action. He lowers his
paper again, disconcerting her._
QUEX.
You don't feel you _ought_ to go and meet your--Mr. Valma?
SOPHY.
[_Edging towards him._] I might miss him--mightn't I?
QUEX.
Certainly--you might.
SOPHY.
Besides, it wouldn't do for me to attend upon Mrs. Jack--Mrs. Eden--all
puffing and towzelled; [_archly_] now, would it?
QUEX.
[_Resuming his reading._] You're the best judge.
SOPHY.
So I've a quarter of an hour to fill in somehow. [_A pause._] I've a
quarter of an hour to fill in somehow.
QUEX.
[_Behind his paper, beginning to be extremely bored._] Indeed?
SOPHY.
[_Quaking._] I--I wish there were some quiet little shady places to
ramble about in, here at Fauncey Court.
QUEX.
There are several.
SOPHY.
Are there?... are there?
QUEX.
[_Turning his paper._] Oh, yes, a great many.
SOPHY.
You see, I'm a stranger--
QUEX.
[_Kindly._] Well, you run along; you'll find 'em. [_She walks away
slowly, baffled. He glances at her over his paper, slightly puzzled._]
Have you seen the grotto?
SOPHY.
[_Turning sharply._] No.
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