QUEX.

[Watching her keenly.] No? and what are your lady-customers continually saying?

SOPHY.

Why, that the young fellows of the day are such conceited, apish creatures; no man under forty-five is worth wasting a minute’s time over.

QUEX.

Ho! they say that, your lady-customers?

SOPHY.

Yes; and they’re good judges, they are.

QUEX.

Good judges! none better—­none better.

SOPHY.

[Laying her clipper aside suddenly, and putting her hand to her eyes with a cry of pain.] Oh!

QUEX.

[Coolly.] What’s the matter?

SOPHY.

[Rising.] A little splinter has flown into my eye It often happens.

QUEX.

[Rising.] Extremely painful, I expect?

SOPHY.

[Producing her handkerchief.] Very. [Giving him her handkerchief.] Do you think you could find it?

QUEX.

Certainly, if it’s to be found.

SOPHY.

[Holding the lapels of his coat, her head almost upon his shoulder, her eyes closed.] Ah! please make haste and look for it!

QUEX.

Right or left?

SOPHY.

The ri—­the left.

QUEX.

[Sharply.] Raise your head.  Stand up.

SOPHY.

[Releasing his coat and raising her head.] Eh?

QUEX.

[Sternly.] Open your eyes.  Both of them. [She opens her eyes and stares at him.  He returns her handkerchief.] There!  I have removed the splinter. [She slowly backs away like a whipped child.  He follows her.] Miss Fullgarney, I understand you are engaged to be married—­to this young man, Valma?

SOPHY.

[Tremblingly.] Yes, my lord.

QUEX.

Do you care for him?

SOPHY.

[Faintly.] Yes.

QUEX.

In love with him?

SOPHY.

Oh, yes, my lord, indeed.

QUEX.

And yet you still flirt?

SOPHY.

Y—­es.

QUEX.

Take my advice—­be satisfied with the kisses your sweetheart gives you. 
Don’t try to get them from other men, old or young.

SOPHY.

No—­no—­

QUEX.

[Sternly, but kindly.] You little fool!

POLLITT enters, wearing a tall hat and lemon-coloured gloves.

POLLITT.

[Jealously.] Sophy!

[QUEX walks away.

SOPHY.

[Falteringly.] The fly-man brought back the bag, Valma dear.

POLLITT.

I am aware of that. [Lowering his voice.] What are you doing here with
Lord Quex?

SOPHY.

I—­I’ve been manicuring him.

The YOUNGER SERVANT comes down the steps.