[_Pretending to display the articles._] It's all right; he's got to take Lady Owbridge and Mrs. Jack Eden to look at Moses in the Bulrushes--a picture-- BASTLING. Sophy--I've bad news. SOPHY. No! what? BASTLING. My regiment is ordered to Hong-Kong. SOPHY. Great heavens! when are you off? BASTLING. In a fortnight. SOPHY. Oh, my poor darling! BASTLING. I must see her again to-morrow. I've something serious to propose to her. SOPHY. [_Half in eagerness, half in fright._] Have you? BASTLING. But to-morrow it must be alone, Sophy; I can't say what I have to say in a few hasty whispers, with all your girls flitting about--and perhaps a customer or two here. Alone! SOPHY. Without me? BASTLING. Surely you can trust us. To-morrow at twelve. You'll manage it? SOPHY. How can I--alone? BASTLING. You're our only friend. Think! SOPHY. [_Glancing suddenly towards the left._] Valma's rooms! [FRAYNE _has wandered to the back of the circular table, and, through his eyeglass, is again observing_ SOPHY. QUEX _now joins him._ BASTLING. [_Perceiving them--to_ SOPHY.] Look out! SOPHY. [_Taking a bottle from his hand--raising her voice._] You'll receive the perfume in the course of the afternoon. [_Replacing the bottle upon the table._] Shall I do your nails? BASTLING. Thanks. [_They move away. He takes his place in the screen-chair; she sits facing him. During the process of manicuring they talk together earnestly._ FRAYNE. [_Eyeing_ SOPHY.] Slim, but shapely. Slim, but shapely. MISS MOON _enters, with a bowl of water. Having adjusted the bowl upon the arm of the screen-chair, she retires._ FRAYNE. There's another of 'em. Plain. [_Watching_ MISS MOON _as she goes out._] I don't know--rather alluring. [_Finding_ QUEX _by his side._] Beg your pardon. QUEX. Didn't hear you. FRAYNE. Glad of it. At the same time, old friend, you will forgive me for remarking that a man's virtuous resolutions must be--ha, ha!--somewhat feeble, hey?--when he flinches at the mere admiration of beauty on the part of a pal, connoisseur through that pal undoubtedly is. QUEX. Oh, my dear Chick, my resolutions are firm enough. FRAYNE. [_Dubiously._] H'm! QUEX. And my prudery is consistent with the most laudable intentions, I assure you. But the fact is, dear chap, I go in fear and trembling-- FRAYNE. Ah! QUEX. No, no, not for my strength of mind--fear lest any trivial act of mine, however guileless; the most innocent glance in the direction of a decent-looking woman; should be misinterpreted by the good ladies in whose hands I have placed myself--especially aunt Julia. You remember Lady Owbridge? FRAYNE. Why did you intrust yourself--? QUEX. My one chance! [_Taking_ FRAYNE _to the table, against which they both lean shoulder to shoulder--his voice falling into a strain of tenderness._] Chick, when I fell in love with Miss Eden-- FRAYNE. [_In sentimental retrospection._] Fell in love! what memories are awakened by the dear old phrase!