[_With a nod._] Goo'-bye. MISS HUDDLE. Good-day, sir. [_He pays_ MISS LIMBIRD _and goes out. The maid rises and hands the young lady her gloves._ MISS MOON. [_Taking a card from the mirror._] Would you like a card of Valma's, madam, just to remind you? YOUNG LADY. [_Accepting the card and reading it._] "Valma. Palmist. Professor of the Sciences of Chiromancy and Chirognomy. 186 New Bond Street." [_Giving the card to her maid._] Keep that. [_The door-gong sounds._ MISS MOON. [_Opening a window._] Look, madam. That's one of his rooms; the window there--the open one-- YOUNG LADY. Yes, I see. Thanks. Good-morning. MISS MOON. Good morning. [_The young lady pays_ MISS LIMBIRD _and goes, followed by her maid_. MISS HUDDLE. [_To_ MISS MOON] What time is it, dear? MISS MOON. [_Putting her table in order._] Half-past one. Lunch-time. MISS HUDDLE. Thought so; I've sech a vacancy. [MISS HUDDLE _goes out, carrying her bowl and towel, as_ FRANK POLLITT--"VALMA"--_appears at the window on the left--a well, if rather showily, dressed young fellow, wearing a frock coat, white waistcoat, and patent-leather boots. He is handsome in a commonplace way, and, though stilted and self-conscious, earnest in speech and bearing._ POLLITT. [_Looking in._] Excuse me-- MISS MOON. [_Startled._] Oh! oh, Mr. Valma! POLLITT. [_Entering._] Is Miss Fullgarney in the way? MISS MOON. [_Gazing at him in modest admiration._] She's with a lady in the private room, Mr. Valma. [_The door in the partition opens._ SOPHY. [_From the private room._] Oh, no, madam, I promise I won't forget. Certainly not, I take too much interest in your daughter's nails for that. MISS MOON. This is her. [_A middle-aged lady enters from the private room, followed by_ SOPHY FULLGARNEY. _The customer pays at the desk while_ SOPHY _rattles on._ SOPHY _is a pretty, elegant, innocently vulgar, fascinating young woman of six-and-twenty._ SOPHY. [_With the air of the proprietress of a prosperous establishment._] Oh, yes, it did slip my memory to come on Thursday, didn't it? The truth is I had a most racking head, a thing I never have--well, I oughtn't to say never have, ought I? [_To_ MISS LIMBIRD.] Now, Miss Limbird, see that two pots of Crème de Mimosa are posted to Mrs. Arment, Carlos Place; and book me, please--_me_--you thoroughly understand?--to attend upon Miss Arment to-morrow evening at seven. [_Accompanying the customer, who now withdraws._] To-morrow evening at seven--without fail. [_Raising her voice._] The door, Miss Claridge. Good morning, madam. Good afternoon. [_The door-gong sounds._ SOPHY. Come, girls, you can get to your lunches. [MISS LIMBIRD _leaves her desk and goes out._ MISS MOON. Here's Mr. Valma, Miss Fullgarney. SOPHY. [_With a little gasp._] Mr. Valma. [_Approaching him._] How do you do? POLLITT. [_Advancing._] Pardon me for the liberty I have taken in again crossing the leads. SOPHY. [_Looking away from him._] No liberty at all.