QUEX.

Chick.

FRAYNE.

Eh?

QUEX.

I want you.

[FRAYNE comes to QUEX, who hands him the jeweller’s case and the slip of paper.

SOPHY.

[Fussing over her books, oblivious of what is transpiring.] As if the difficulty of conducting a business of this kind isn’t sufficient without extra bothers and worries being brought down on one’s head!  What with one’s enormous rent, and rotten debts, it’s heartbreaking!  Here’s a woman here, on my books, who runs an account for fifteen months, with the face of an angel, and no more intends to pay me than to jump over St. Paul’s—­

QUEX.

[Who again has possession of the jeweller’s case and the paper.] Miss Fullgarney—­

SOPHY.

What now, my lord?  Upon my word, it is too bad—!

QUEX.

Please come here.

SOPHY.

[Coming forward—­now on the verge of tears.] After such a night as I’ve had, too.  I never could do without my full eight hours—­

QUEX.

Be silent!

SOPHY.

What!

QUEX.

Miss Eden and Captain Bastling—­

SOPHY.

Eh?

QUEX.

They are acquaintances—­friends. [With a stamp of the foot.] They are on terms of—­

SOPHY.

[Faintly.] Oh!

QUEX.

[Pointing to the window.] She is with him at this moment—­there.

SOPHY.

[Unsteadily.] Whatever are you saying, my lord? [Discovering that he has the jeweller’s case and the paper.] Ah—!

QUEX.

Yes, I found these upon the table. [She advances, to take them from him.] Miss Eden left them here—­forgot them!

SOPHY.

[In a murmur.] Yes.

[He gives them to her.  She puts them into her pocket and sits.

QUEX.

Come! tell me.

SOPHY.

You—­you are not the only one in the field, my lord.

QUEX.

So I conclude.

SOPHY.

Have pity on her!

QUEX.

[Sternly.] How dare you!

SOPHY.

It’s more my fault than hers.

QUEX.

Continue.

SOPHY.

She has wanted to stop it, hating herself for being deceitful, but
I—­I’ve encouraged her, egged her on.

QUEX.

Yes.

SOPHY.

They’ve been in the habit of meeting here at my place.

QUEX.

[Again pointing to the window.] In this fellow’s rooms—­Mr. Valma’s—­

SOPHY.

[Rising.] No, no.  They’ve never met there, till this morning.  But he—­young Bastling—­he’s going away, abroad, in a fortnight or so, and he wished to say good-bye to her quietly.

QUEX.