I can show you a nearer way than by going back to the house. [_Pointing into the distance._] Follow this hedge and take the second alley--not the first--on your left. When you reach the big fountain-- [QUEX, _still dipping into the sermons, has come down to the back of the table. He now throws the book upon the table and picks up a newspaper._ QUEX. I beg your pardon, Duchess--I didn't see you. DUCHESS. [_In a whisper._] Harry-- QUEX. [_Startled._] Eh? DUCHESS. I will hurry into my gown and return. Be here in a quarter of an hour. QUEX. May I ask--the reason? DUCHESS. [_A newspaper in her hand--talking to him, in undertones, over the top of it._] For a week, only the merest commonplaces have passed between us. I must relieve my heart; it is bursting! QUEX. I entreat you to consider my position. DUCHESS. Yours! have _I_ no reputation to endanger? [_Rising--laying the paper aside._] What a pitiably small request! you will grant it? QUEX. If you could see your way to excuse me-- DUCHESS. In memory of the past--! I demand it! QUEX. [_With a stiff bow._] Oh--oh, certainly. DUCHESS. [_Leaving him._] Thank you. QUEX. [_To himself._] Damn! [_He turns on his heel and walks away._ DUCHESS. [_Joining_ MURIEL.] You are coming to dress? MURIEL. [_After smiling assent, presenting_ SOPHY.] Miss Fullgarney was my first playmate, Duchess. DUCHESS. [_Looking upon_ SOPHY _graciously._] Ah? [_To_ MURIEL.] The souvenirs of childhood are sweet, are they not? [_She slips her arm through_ MURIEL'S, _and they ascend the steps and go away together._ SOPHY _comes to the stone bench on the left, upon which she deposits her bag. She opens the bag, produces a little mirror and a comb, and puts her "fringe" in order--humming as she does so an air from the latest comic opera. Then she returns the comb and mirror to the bag and--bag in hand--prepares to depart. While this is going on_ QUEX _returns, above the low hedge. He ascends the steps and looks off into the distance, watching the retreating figure of the_ DUCHESS. _After a moment or two he shrugs his shoulders in a perplexed, troubled way, and, coming down the steps, encounters_ SOPHY. SOPHY. [_Innocently._] Lovely evening, my lord. QUEX. [_Passing her, with a nod and a smile._] Very--very. [_At the table, he exchanges the newspaper he carries for another. She is going in the direction indicated by_ MURIEL. _Suddenly she pauses, above the dwarf cypress-hedge, and stands looking at_ QUEX _with an expression in which fear and determination are mingled. Having selected his newspaper,_ QUEX _crosses to the left and sits, reading._ SOPHY. [_Coming to him._] I don't think I shall go, after all. QUEX. [_Lowering his paper._] Eh? SOPHY. I was just starting off down to the gates, you know, to meet Mr. Valma. QUEX. [_With amiable indifference._] Oh? SOPHY. [_Her head upon one side, smiling._] But it's too hot for walking, isn't it? QUEX. [_Resuming his reading._] It is warm.