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Yes, yes. [_Steadying herself._] Perhaps we are disturbing ourselves unnecessarily.
QUEX.
[_Nodding rea.s.suringly._] Perhaps so.
[_He draws back into the bedroom, but so that he can put his head out at the opening, and watch the_ d.u.c.h.eSS'S _proceedings. She goes to the door and lays her hand upon the key._
d.u.c.h.eSS.
[_Faltering._] Oh! oh, great heavens!
QUEX.
[_Encouragingly._] It's all right--it's all right. Very likely I am mistaken. Now!
[_The_ d.u.c.h.eSS _opens the door suddenly, and_ SOPHY, _who is kneeling at the key-hole, lurches forward._
d.u.c.h.eSS.
Ah!
[SOPHY, _enveloped in the Mandarin's robe, gathers herself up and, without a word, flies away along the pa.s.sage. The_ d.u.c.h.eSS _shuts the door and walks unsteadily to the settee._ QUEX _comes down, his mouth set hard._
QUEX.
I was sure of it.
d.u.c.h.eSS.
[_Aghast._] What will she do? will she tell?
QUEX.
Yes--she'll tell.
d.u.c.h.eSS.
Why do you speak so positively?
QUEX.
She is in Miss Eden's confidence--the trull. And she has always shown her teeth at me, now I remember. [_Drawing a deep breath._] Oh, yes, I see--Miss Fullgarney has meant mischief throughout.
d.u.c.h.eSS.
[_Sinking upon the settee._] Oh!
QUEX.
[_Quietly._] Well--_I'm done_.
d.u.c.h.eSS.
Oh, my reputation!
QUEX.
I'm--done.
d.u.c.h.eSS.
My reputation! I have never ceased to guard that, as you know.
QUEX.
I've lost her.
d.u.c.h.eSS.
My reputation!
QUEX.
Of course, I deserve it. But--
[_He sits, his head bowed._
d.u.c.h.eSS.
[_Looking up._] To think--to think that I allowed this plausible creature to thrust herself upon me! [_He raises his head, glaring fiercely. She beats the pillow._] Oh! oh! my reputation in the hands of this low creature!
QUEX.
Ah--! [_With a half-smothered cry he goes to the door and pulls it open.
The_ d.u.c.h.eSS _runs after him and seizes his arm_.] I said I'd wring her d.a.m.ned neck--I told Frayne so.
d.u.c.h.eSS.
[_Pus.h.i.+ng him away from the door._] Don't! don't! violence will not help us. [_She closes the door; he stands clutching the chair by the writing-table. The clock strikes twelve._] Midnight. [_Leaning upon a chair._] At any rate, you had better go now.
QUEX.
[_Turning to her._] I beg your pardon; I regret having lost control of myself.
d.u.c.h.eSS.
[_Miserably._] It has been a wretchedly disappointing meeting.
QUEX.
