In love with him? SOPHY. Oh, yes, my lord, indeed. QUEX. And yet you still flirt? SOPHY. Y--es. QUEX. Take my advice--be satisfied with the kisses your sweetheart gives you. Don't try to get them from other men, old or young. SOPHY. No--no-- QUEX. [_Sternly, but kindly._] You little fool! POLLITT _enters, wearing a tall hat and lemon-coloured gloves._ POLLITT. [_Jealously._] Sophy! [QUEX _walks away._ SOPHY. [_Falteringly._] The fly-man brought back the bag, Valma dear. POLLITT. I am aware of that. [_Lowering his voice._] What are you doing here with Lord Quex? SOPHY. I--I've been manicuring him. _The_ YOUNGER SERVANT _comes down the steps._ 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.