[_After a short pause._] How long have you been here? SOPHY. I? Oh, I'd just come as you spoke to me. QUEX. [_Half-satisfied._] Oh--? [_He goes up the steps, gives her a parting look, and, disappears. It is now twilight._ MRS. EDEN, FRAYNE, _and_ MURIEL--_all dressed for dinner--appear on the other side of the low hedge._ MRS. EDEN. [_To_ FRAYNE, _walking with him above the hedge._] Delightful, isn't it? It was planted by the late Lord Owbridge's father a hundred years ago. FRAYNE. [_Seeing_ SOPHY.] Why, isn't that the young manicure lady? MRS. EDEN. Yes. All these pieces of sculpture are genuine old Italian. This quaint little fountain came from the Villa Marchotti-- FRAYNE. [_Edging towards_ SOPHY.] Alluring. MRS. EDEN. This is the fountain. FRAYNE. [_Returning to her_.] Quaint old fountain. SOPHY. [_To_ MURIEL, _across the hedge in a whisper._] Darling! MRS. EDEN. [_Looking into the distance._] I think I see the dear Duchess. FRAYNE. [_Alertly._] Where? MRS. EDEN. There. FRAYNE. I have the honour of knowing her Grace slightly. MRS. EDEN. [_Moving away._] What a sweet woman! FRAYNE. [_Following her._] Alluring! [_They disappear through the trees as_ MURIEL, _coming from below the hedge, joins_ SOPHY. SOPHY. Darling! MURIEL. What is it, Sophy? SOPHY. Lord Quex and this--this Duchess--they know each other very well, of course? MURIEL. They are old acquaintances, I understand. SOPHY. Ah! MURIEL. Why do you ask? SOPHY. I've just seen them together, talking. MURIEL. Talking? why not? SOPHY. Yes, but how? MURIEL. How? SOPHY. I'll tell you. After you went indoors to dress, I took off my rings and put them on that table. [_Looking away rather guiltily._] Rings fidget me, this hot weather--don't they you? Well, just as I'd finished with Mrs. Jack, it suddenly struck me--my rings!--and I hurried back to fetch them. When I got here, I came across Lord Quex and the Duchess. MURIEL. [_Calmly._] Yes? SOPHY. I stooped down behind that hedge there. MURIEL. You did not! SOPHY. Oh, I suppose you consider it mean! MURIEL. Despicable! SOPHY. Despicable, is it! I don't care! My goodness, I'd do the shabbiest thing a woman could do to save you from him! MURIEL. [_Peering among the trees._] Hush, hush, hush! SOPHY. [_On the verge of tears._] Perhaps you fancy I'm mean from choice? Perhaps you imagine--? MURIEL. Be quiet, Sophy! SOPHY. [_Giving a sniff and lowering her voice._] Well, here they were, standing exactly where you are, close to each other. [MURIEL _changes her position._] I saw her touch his arm. Oh, I'm positive there's something between those two! "You will?" I heard her say. And then he made a remark about Friday--Friday-- MURIEL. The Duchess goes on Friday. SOPHY.