QUEX.

[To LADY OWBRIDGE, who is upon his arm.] Yes, a curious phase of modern life.  Many people come to these places for rest.

LADY OWBRIDGE.

[Looking about her shrinkingly.] For rest, Henry?

QUEX.

Certainly.  I know a woman—­I knew a woman who used to declare that her sole repose during the Season was the half-hour with the manicurist.

MRS. EDEN.

How are you, Sophy?

SOPHY.

How are you to-day, Mrs. Eden?

MRS. EDEN.

Lady Owbridge, this is Miss Fullgarney, whom you’ve heard about.

[SOPHY rises, makes a bob, and sits again.

LADY OWBRIDGE.

[Seated.] I hope you’re quite well, my dear.

SOPHY.

[Busy over MURIEL’S nails.] Thanks, my lady; I hope you’re the same.

MRS. EDEN.

[Sitting.] What is your opinion of the picture, Lady Owbridge?

LADY OWBRIDGE.

[Not hearing.] Eh?

QUEX.

Moses in the Bulrushes—­what d’ye think of it?

LADY OWBRIDGE.

[Tearfully.] They treat such subjects nowadays with too little reverence.

FRAYNE.

[Thoughtlessly.] Too much Pharaoh’s daughter and too little Moses.

QUEX.

[Frowning him down.] Phsst!

MRS. EDEN.

Certainly the handmaidens remind one of the young ladies in the ballet at the Empire.

LADY OWBRIDGE.

The Empire?

MRS. EDEN.

[Checking herself.] Oh—!

QUEX.

Popular place of entertainment.

LADY OWBRIDGE.

Ah?  The only place of that kind I have visited for some years is the
Imperial Institute.

[MRS. EDEN rises, laughing to herself, and joins SOPHY and MURIEL.  FRAYNE is now establishing cordial relations between himself and MISS MOON.

MRS. EDEN.

[To SOPHY.] Well, Sophy, and how’s your business getting along?

LADY OWBRIDGE.

[To QUEX, after ascertaining that FRAYNE is not near her.] Oh, Henry, I have asked Sir Chichester to drive down to us to-night, to dine.

QUEX.

[Watching FRAYNE with apprehension.] Ah, yes, delightful. [Trying to gain FRAYNE’S attention—­warningly.] Phsst! phsst!

LADY OWBRIDGE.

[Plucking at QUEX’S coat.] I feel that Sir Chichester is a very wholesome friend for you, Henry.

QUEX.

Very.  Phsst!

LADY OWBRIDGE.

What is the name of the West African place?—­Uumbos—­Uumbos seems to have improved him vastly.

QUEX.

[In a low voice.] Chichester!

LADY OWBRIDGE.

And it is our wish that you should associate for the future only with grey-haired men.