[_Coming to her._] We're by ourselves for a minute. Give me a good hug. [_Embracing her._] My dear! my darling! ha, ha, ha! you shall be the first to hear of it--I'm engaged. MURIEL. Sophy! to whom? SOPHY. To Mr. Valma, the great palmist. MURIEL. What, the young man you've talked to me about--next door? [_Kissing her._] I hope you are doing well for yourself, dear. SOPHY. He's simply perfect! he's--! oh, how can I be such a brute, talking of my own happiness--! [_In an altered tone._] Darling, Captain Bastling's regiment is going to be sent off to Hong-Kong. MURIEL. [_After a pause--commanding herself._] When? SOPHY. In about a fortnight. MURIEL. [_Frigidly._] Is this what you had to tell me, from him? SOPHY. Yes, and that he must see you to-morrow, alone. I'll arrange it. Can you manage to be here at twelve? MURIEL. I daresay, somehow. SOPHY. [_Looking at her in surprise._] I thought you'd be more upset. MURIEL. [_Taking_ SOPHY'S _hand._] The truth is, Sophy--I'm glad. SOPHY. Glad! MURIEL. Awfully glad the chance has come of putting an end to all this. Oh, I've been treating him shockingly! SOPHY. Him? MURIEL. Lord Quex! SOPHY. [_Impatiently._] Oh! pooh! MURIEL. [_Leaving_ SOPHY.] Yes, after to-morrow he sha'n't find me looking a guilty fool whenever he speaks to me--by Jove, he sha'n't! I believe he guessed I haven't seen Moses in the Bulrushes! SOPHY. But, dear, how do you know what Captain Bastling means to say to you to-morrow? MURIEL. [_Pausing in her walk._] To say?--good-bye. SOPHY. Suppose he asks you to put him out of his misery--marry him directly, on the quiet? MURIEL. [_A little unsteadily._] Then I shall tell him finally--my word is given to Lord Quex. SOPHY. [_Coming to her again._] Given!--wrung out of you. And just for that you'll lose the chance of being happy--all your life--with the man you-- [_She turns away, and sits, on the right of the circular table, blowing her nose._ MURIEL. [_At_ SOPHY'S _side, desperately._] But I tell you, Sophy, I love Lord Quex. SOPHY. You may _tell_ me. MURIEL. I do--I mean, I'm getting to. [_Defiantly._] At any rate, I am proud of him. SOPHY. Proud! MURIEL. Certainly--proud that he has mended his ways for my sake. SOPHY. [_Between tears and anger._] Mended his ways! with those eyes of his! MURIEL. [_Looking down upon_ SOPHY, _wonderingly._] His eyes? why, they are considered his best feature. SOPHY. _I_ never saw wickeder eyes. All my girls say the same. MURIEL. [_With rising indignation._] I am sure you have never detected Lord Quex looking at anybody in a way he should not. SOPHY. Oh, I admit he has always behaved in a gentlemanly manner towards me and my girls. MURIEL. [_Haughtily._ Towards you and your--! Sophy, pray remember Lord Quex's rank. SOPHY. [_In hot scorn._] His rank! ha! do you think his lordship has ever let _that_ interfere--? [_She checks herself, finding_ MURIEL _staring at her._ MURIEL.