SERVANT.

[To SOPHY.] Mrs. Eden is quite ready for you, miss.

[She hurriedly replaces her manicure instruments, &c., in the bag, hands the bowl to the SERVANT, and, without looking at POLLITT or QUEX, goes swiftly up the steps and disappears.  The SERVANT follows her, carrying the bowl.

POLLITT.

[To QUEX.] Excuse me, my lord—­

QUEX.

[Coming forward, and picking up his newspaper.] Eh?

POLLITT.

That young lady and I are engaged to be married.

QUEX.

Mr.—­Valma?

POLLITT.

Yes, my lord. [Hotly.] And I very much object to her manicuring gentlemen.

QUEX.

[Dryly.] Well, there you have a little something to discuss at home—­before, and, perhaps, after marriage.

POLLITT.

I consider the custom of ladies manicuring gentlemen one that may occasionally lead to undue familiarity, my lord.

QUEX.

I am inclined to agree with you, sir.

POLLITT.

And I shall do all I can to persuade Miss Fullgarney to relinquish active participation in the business.

QUEX.

The palmistry profession is a flourishing one at present, eh, Mr. Valma?

POLLITT.

[Loftily.] My engagement-book is always full.  I have disappointed several ladies by coming here this afternoon.

QUEX.

Poor women!  Nevertheless, pray be careful how you slight the manicure trade.  Crazes die, you know—­nails grow.

POLLITT.

[Tapping his breast.] I think we have come to stay, my lord.

QUEX.

[Lightly.] Well, you’re sailing pretty close to the wind, remember, you fellows.

POLLITT.

My lord!

QUEX.

[Replacing his newspaper upon the table.] And if some day you should find yourselves in the police-court, alongside a poor old woman whose hand has been crossed with a threepenny-bit down an area—­

The DUCHESS appears on the further side of the low cypress-hedge.  She is dressed for dinner.  The sky is now faintly rosy, and during the ensuing scene it deepens into a rich sunset.

QUEX.

We are going to have a flaming sunset, Duchess.

DUCHESS.

Superb.

POLLITT.

[Haughtily.] I wish you good evening, my lord.

QUEX.

Oh, good evening, Mr. Valma. [To himself.] Impudent beggar!

[POLLITT walks away.  After watching his going, the DUCHESS comes eagerly forward.

DUCHESS.

[Her hand upon her heart.] Oh!  I am here, Harry!

QUEX.

[In delicate protest.] Ah, my dear Duchess!

DUCHESS.

Fortunately I have been able to dress quickly without exciting curiosity.  My maid was summoned away this afternoon, to her father who is sick. [Sinking on to the bench.] Still, these risks are considerable enough.