[SOPHY _returns, carrying a pink tea-gown trimmed with green ribbons, and a richly embroidered Mandarin's robe._ SOPHY. Will your Grace put on one of these? [_With a curl of the lip._] They're both very becoming, I should think. DUCHESS. [_Smiling sadly._] Becoming! as if that mattered, child! SOPHY. Which will your Grace--? DUCHESS. [_To herself, closing her eyes._] _Couleur de rose_--[_to_ SOPHY] er--that pink rag. Take off my collarette. [SOPHY _lays the tea-gown and the robe over the back of the settee and proceeds to unfasten the_ DUCHESS'S _pearl collarette._ MRS. EDEN. [_Startled, by some passage in the book she is reading._] Oh, I _say_! DUCHESS. What, dear Mrs. Eden? MRS. EDEN. [_Bethinking herself--soberly._] Ah, yes, the style is excellent, isn't it? DUCHESS. [_To_ SOPHY, _while the collarette is in process of removal._] Have you everything you require for the night, child? SOPHY. Yes, thank you, your Grace. Miss Gilchrist, Mrs. Eden's maid, has lent me a night-gown and a pair of slippers. DUCHESS. [_Handing her bracelets to_ SOPHY.] Drop them into the case. [SOPHY _puts the collarette and bracelets in the jewel-case. The_ DUCHESS, _rising, again looks at the clock and at_ MRS. EDEN. SOPHY _returns to the_ DUCHESS, _who is now behind the settee._ DUCHESS. [_To_ SOPHY.] It is very good of you, Sophy, to attend upon me. SOPHY. [_Averting her head._] Not at all, your Grace. DUCHESS. [_Taking up the Mandarin's robe._] Here is a pretty thing for you. [_Giving the robe to_ SOPHY.] Wear it to dress your hair in, in the morning. SOPHY. [_Breathing shortly._] Oh, no, your Grace--please--! DUCHESS. Nonsense, child; take it. [SOPHY, _somewhat out of countenance, lays the robe over the back of the chair._ MRS. EDEN. [_Looking up_.] Well, you are a lucky girl, Sophy! SOPHY. Yes, I know it's very beautiful; [_returning to the_ DUCHESS] but I--I think I'd rather not-- DUCHESS. Tsch, tsch! help me. [_The_ DUCHESS _is standing before the cheval-glass, which conceals her from the audience. With_ SOPHY'S _aid, she slips out of her dress and puts herself into the tea-gown, while she talks to_ MRS. EDEN.] Miss Eden is not well to-night, I am afraid. She didn't come into the drawing-room. [MRS. EDEN _rises and goes to the settee, upon which she partly kneels while she chatters to the_ DUCHESS. MRS. EDEN. She complained of headache and bolted upstairs. Muriel is such an odd girl at times. DUCHESS. A sweet one. MRS. EDEN. Perfectly adorable. Only I wish she wasn't so moody and uncertain. DUCHESS. But a headache--[_sympathetically_] dear child! MRS. EDEN. An engaged girl ought not to have a headache--no girl ought. It's just one of those things that makes a man ponder. DUCHESS. Ponder? MRS. EDEN.