[_To_ QUEX, _mournfully._] Old chap, this is shockingly sudden. QUEX. Ha, ha! FRAYNE. However, we must contrive, you and I, to pass one more evening together before the event. QUEX. One! many! FRAYNE. No, no, I mean a buster, Harry; a regular night of it-- QUEX. Good lord! go away! [MRS. EDEN _joins_ LADY OWBRIDGE _as_ FRAYNE _advances to_ MURIEL. FRAYNE. [_Taking_ MURIEL'S _hand._] Dear young lady, you are about to become the wife of one of the best. There are not many of us left; we are a dwindling band, Miss Eden-- [_The_ DUCHESS _comes to_ QUEX. DUCHESS. [_To_ QUEX, _softly._] Sincere congratulations. [_He bows stiffly._] At any time, you know, when you return to England-- QUEX. [_Eyeing her sternly._] Yes? DUCHESS. After your honeymoon-- QUEX. Yes? DUCHESS. Should you feel _ennuyé_-- QUEX. I! DUCHESS. The air at Burwarton never failed to exhilarate you. So pray do not forget-- QUEX. [_Indignantly._] Duchess! DUCHESS. [_Sweetly._] That poor dear Strood would be pleased to see you. [FRAYNE _joins_ LADY OWBRIDGE _and_ MRS. EDEN _as the_ DUCHESS _advances to_ MURIEL.] Dear Miss Eden, may your married life be as beautiful, as serene, as my own! MURIEL. [_Frankly._] Thank you, Duchess. LADY OWBRIDGE. We shall be a happy party at luncheon. Shall we go, Duchess? Muriel--Henry--[QUEX _joins_ MURIEL. SOPHY _is eyeing_ MURIEL _wistfully._ MISS LIMBIRD _holds the_ portière _aside, to allow the visitors to pass out._] Good morning, Miss Fullgarney. SOPHY. Good morning, my lady. DUCHESS. Miss Fullgarney-- SOPHY. Good-bye, your Grace. [_The_ DUCHESS _and_ LADY OWBRIDGE _go out._ FRAYNE. [_Following them with_ MRS. EDEN.] Good-day, Miss Fullgarney. SOPHY. Good-day, sir. MRS. EDEN. Morning, Sophy. SOPHY. Morning, Mrs. Eden. [FRAYNE _and_ MRS. EDEN _go out._ QUEX. [_Following them with_ MURIEL.] Good morning, Miss Fullgarney. SOPHY. [_Blankly._] G--good morning, my lord. [QUEX _and_ MURIEL _go out, followed by_ MISS LIMBIRD. SOPHY _stands aghast, her bosom heaving._] Oh! oh! oh! [_The door-gong sounds._ POLLITT _appears at the window._ SOPHY _is wringing her hands._] Oh--! POLLITT. [_Entering._] My love! what's the matter? SOPHY. She--she's left me, without a word! POLLITT. She? SOPHY. Muriel--without so much as wishing me good-morning. [_With a sob._] Oh! when I've done what I can for everybody! [_The_ portière _is pulled aside and_ MURIEL _returns, unaccompanied, and comes to_ SOPHY'S _side swiftly._ MURIEL. [_To_ SOPHY.] Forgive me. You did it for the best. [_Kissing her._] I'm sorry-- SOPHY. [_Throwing her arms round_ MURIEL'S _neck._] Oh! my darling--! [MURIEL _runs out._ SOPHY _goes to_ POLLITT _and drops her head upon his breast, restfully._] Ah! _that's_ all right. [_The door-gong sounds finally._ THE END. Printed by BALLANTYNE, HANSON & CO. London & Edinburgh