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This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 81 pages of information about The Gay Lord Quex.

QUEX.

[Rising.] Ha! [Calmly.] No, my dear Sophy, I wasn’t aware that your fiance is in the house.  So the situation comes home to you a little more poignantly now, does it?

SOPHY.

[Rising and going to the passage-door.] Unlock the door! where’s the key?

QUEX.

Wait, wait, wait!  And you’re going to keep your mouth shut after all, are you?

SOPHY.

[Rattling the door-handle.] Yes, yes, Unlock it!

QUEX.

Don’t be in such a hurry.

SOPHY.

I give you my sacred word—­

QUEX.

[Thoughtfully.] Tsch, tsch, tsch! [Sharply, with a snap of the fingers.] Yes—­by Jove—! [Pointing to the chair by the writing-table.] Sit down. [Imperatively.] Sit down. [She sits, wonderingly.  He goes to the table, selects a plain sheet of paper and lays it before her.  Then he hands her a pen.] Write as I tell you.

SOPHY.

[Tremblingly.] What?

QUEX.

[Pointing to the ink.] Ink. [Dictating.] “My lord.” [She writes; he walks about as he dictates.] “My lord.  I am truly obliged to you—­”

SOPHY

Yes.

QUEX.

“For your great liberality—­”

SOPHY.

[Turning.] Eh?

QUEX.

[Sternly.] Go on. [She writes.] “For your great liberality, and in once more availing myself of it I quite understand—­”

SOPHY.

[Weakly.] Oh! [After writing.] Yes.

QUEX.

“I quite understand that our friendship comes to an end.” [She rises and faces him.] Go on.

SOPHY.

Our friendship!

QUEX.

Yes.

SOPHY.

Our—­friendship!

QUEX.

Yes.

SOPHY.

I won’t.

QUEX.

Very well.

SOPHY.

How dare you try to make me write such a thing! [He turns from her and, book in hand, resumes his recumbent position on the sofa.  She approaches him, falteringly.] What would you do with that, if I did write it?

QUEX.

Simply hold it in my possession, as security for your silence, until after my marriage with Miss Eden; then return it to you.

SOPHY.

Oh, won’t your lordship trust me?

QUEX.

[Contemptuously.] Trust you! [After a pause, she returns to the writing-table and takes up her pen again.] Where were we?

SOPHY.

[Feebly.] “I quite understand—­”

QUEX.

“That our friendship comes to an end.” [She writes.  He rises and looks over her shoulder.] “While thanking you again for past and present favours—­”

SOPHY.

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