SOPHY. [_Nerving herself for her task._] Thanks! BASTLING. A million of 'em; What's the matter? SOPHY. Oh, nothing. BASTLING. Yes, there is. Come, out with it. SOPHY. Well--_thanks_! [_Tossing her head._] There isn't much in thanks. BASTLING. [_Puzzled._] Not much in thanks? SOPHY. [_Turning away, pouting._] _I_ think not. BASTLING. [_Smiling._] Oh, I know I owe a tremendous deal to the pretty manicurist, and I don't intend to forget it. Just now I'm rather hard-up, [_glancing towards the window_] but I shall be in funds before long-- SOPHY. [_Turning to him with genuine indignation._] Oh! BASTLING. What do you want, then? SOPHY. [_After a moment's hesitation, sidling up to him._] Not money. BASTLING. Not? SOPHY. A little more than plain thanks though. BASTLING. [_Looking into her eyes, laughing softly._] Ha, ha, ha! SOPHY. [_Slyly._] Ha, ha, ha! BASTLING. Thanks--differently expressed--? [_She plays with the lapel of his coat and giggles. He takes her chin in his hand._] Ha, ha, ha! Sophy! SOPHY. Ha, ha! [MURIEL _appears at the open window and enters the room noiselessly. Seeing_ BASTLING _and_ SOPHY _together, she halts in surprise._ BASTLING. [_Whose back is to the window._] I say--mind, no tales. SOPHY. [_Looking at_ MURIEL _steadily over_ BASTLING'S _shoulder._] Likely I'd split on you, isn't it? BASTLING. Honour bright? SOPHY. Oh, if you've any doubt-- [_He raises her face to his and kisses her upon the lips warmly and lingeringly. She goes back a step or two, still gazing fixedly at_ MURIEL. BASTLING. Eh--? [_Following the direction of her eyes, he turns and encounters_ MURIEL. _The three stand for a moment or two without movement._ BASTLING. [_After the pause, speaking in a low voice, his eyes avoiding_ MURIEL'S.] Well--ha!--I suppose every man makes a big mistake at least once in his life. I've made mine. At the same time, I--I--[_hurriedly_] oh, I'll write. [_With a slight, quick bow to_ MURIEL, _he wheels round sharply and goes out._ SOPHY. [_Wiping his kiss from her lips._] The wretch! the wretch! [_The door-gong sounds._ MURIEL. [_Covering her eyes with her hand and uttering a low moan._] Oh--! SOPHY. [_Hanging her head._] You see, darling, yesterday at Fauncey Court, I--I tried it on with Lord Quex, and he behaved like a gentleman. So the notion struck me that I'd treat the young man in the same way, just to see what _he_ was made of, and--well, I'm glad you came in. You might never have believed me. MURIEL. [_In a hard voice._] The shirt-stud--the stuff I wrote--I left them with you-- SOPHY. [_Producing them._] I found them after you'd gone. [MURIEL _takes the piece of paper and tears it into small pieces._ SOPHY _offers her the jeweller's case._ MURIEL. [_Haughtily._] Take that back to Gressier's this afternoon, please, and tell them I've changed my mind. Say I'll have a little silver collar for my dog, in its place.