[Looking away again.] Oh, I do no more than any of the others.

POLLITT.

Do you expect me to believe that? you, their queen!  No, it is you who have helped me to steer my bark into the flowing waters of popularity.

SOPHY.

[Nervously.] Extremely pleased, I—­I’m sure. [He is close beside her; a cork is drawn loudly.  They part, startled and disturbed.  She goes to the opening in the partition, raising her voice slightly.] Girls, can’t you draw your corks a shade quieter?  Nice if somebody was coming upstairs!

MISS LIMBIRD.

[In the distance.] Very sorry, Miss Fullgarney.

SOPHY.

[To POLLITT, as she toys with the articles upon the circular table.] Everything is so up this weather.  It’s their lime-juice champagne.

POLLITT.

[By her side again—­suddenly.] I love you!

SOPHY.

Oh, Mr. Valma!

POLLITT.

I love you!  Ever since I had the honour of being presented to you by Mr. Salmon, the picture-dealer next door, I have thought of you, dreamt of you, constantly. [She brushes past him; he follows her.] Miss Fullgarney, you will accord me permission to pay you my addresses?

SOPHY.

[In a flutter.] I—­I am highly flattered and complimented, Mr. Valma, by your proposal—­

POLLITT.

[Taking her hand.] Flattered—­no!

SOPHY.

[Withdrawing her hand.] Oh, but please wait!

POLLITT.

Wait!

SOPHY.

I mean, I certainly couldn’t dream of accepting the attentions of any man until he fully understood—­

POLLITT.

Understood what?

SOPHY.

[Summoning all her dignity.] Oh, I’ll be perfectly straight with you—­until he fully understood that, whatever my station in life may be now, I have risen from rather—­well, I may say very small beginnings.

POLLITT.

What matters that?

SOPHY.

Oh, but I beg your pardon—­it does. [Relaxing.] I am sure I can depend on you not to give me away all over the place?

POLLITT.

Miss Fullgarney—!

SOPHY.

[After a cautious glance round.] You know, Mr. Valma, I was always a self-willed, independent sort of a girl—­a handful, they used to call me; and when father died I determined to have done with my step-mother, and to come to London at any price.  I was seventeen then.

POLLITT.

Yes?

SOPHY.

Oh, it’s nothing to be ashamed of, really; still, I did begin life in town—­[with an uneasy little laugh and a toss of the head]—­you’d hardly believe it!—­as a nursery-maid.

POLLITT.

H’m!  I am aware that is not considered—­

SOPHY.

I should think not!  Oh, of course, in time I rose to be Useful Maid, and then Maid.  I’ve been lady’s-maid in some excellent houses.  And when I got sick of maiding I went to Dundas’s opposite, and served three years at the hairdressing; that’s an extremely refined position, I needn’t say.  And then some kind friends routed me out, [surveying the room proudly] and put me into this.