FRAYNE. Quite, quite. Harry-- QUEX. Yes? FRAYNE. _What_ champagne was it we drank last night at Richmond? QUEX. [_With some bitterness._] Ha! Félix Poubelle, Carte d'Or. FRAYNE. [_Shaking his head._] _I_ can't take champagne. QUEX. _Can't_ you! FRAYNE. I mean I oughtn't to. QUEX. Oh. [_Referring to his watch again._] I've given you a pretty minute account of last night's tragedy, Chick. "I'll do what I can for you"--those were the Fullgarney's words. Good lord, they came at me like a bolt from the blue! Does she intend to act up to them, eh?--that's the question. Surely she'll act up to them, Chick? FRAYNE. Have you met the ladies this morning? QUEX. Yes--except Muriel, who didn't show at breakfast. FRAYNE. How did you find 'em? QUEX. Amiability itself; _they_ know nothing. [_Rising and looking down upon_ FRAYNE.] You see, Chick, all that Miss Fullgarney has to do--if she hasn't already done it--is to tell a trifling taradiddle to Muriel concerning the events of last night. Well, in effect, she has promised to do that, hasn't she? [_Impatiently._] Eh? FRAYNE. [_Gloomily._] Frankly, Harry, I shouldn't be in the least surprised if the jade sold you. QUEX. [_His jaw falling._] You wouldn't? FRAYNE. No. QUEX. Phew! _I_ should. [_Warmly._] By Jove, I should! FRAYNE. I have conceived a great aversion to her--a long, scraggy gal. QUEX. [_With enthusiasm._] As full of courage as a thoroughbred! FRAYNE. [_Closing his eyes._] I can picture her elbows; sharp, pointed elbows--the barbed fence of the spiteful woman. QUEX. Pooh! yesterday she was alluring. FRAYNE. [_Rising painfully._] Yesterday--! [_Gravely._] Harry, do you know there are moments when I feel that I am changing towards the sex; when I fancy I can discern the skeleton, as it were, through the rounded cheek? QUEX. You! FRAYNE. Yes, this novel sentiment is undoubtedly gaining possession of your old friend--gradually, perhaps, but surely. QUEX. [_Regarding him searchingly._] Excuse me, Chick--did you turn into the Beefsteak when you got back from Richmond last night? FRAYNE. For an hour. Oh, a great mistake. QUEX. What, a little whisky on the top of champagne? FRAYNE. [_Gazing pathetically at_ QUEX _with watery eyes._] A good deal of champagne underneath a lot of whisky. [_The door-gong sounds._ QUEX. Who's this? [_He walks to the entrance, and looks into the further room._] The Fullgarney. [_He returns to his former position, as_ SOPHY _enters quickly followed by_ MISS CLARIDGE, MISS MOON, _and_ MISS HUDDLE. SOPHY--_dressed as at the end of the First Act--is pale, red-eyed, and generally unstrung. She comes to_ QUEX, _disconcerted by his presence._ SOPHY. [_Confronting him._] Oh, good morning. QUEX. May I beg a few moments--? SOPHY. Er--certainly. I'll just take off my things-- [_He joins_ FRAYNE. _She goes across the room where she is surrounded by her girls._ MISS CLARIDGE. Oh, Miss Fullgarney, how ill you look! MISS MOON.