QUEX.

[Looking from, MURIEL to FRAYNE proudly.] Well—­

FRAYNE.

[In answer, kissing his finger-tips to the air.] Alluring!

QUEX.

Ha! [Hastily.] We’re keeping the ladies waiting.

[He goes out. FRAYNE is following QUEX, when he encounters MISS CLARIDGE. He pauses, gazing at her admiringly.  The door-gong sounds.

MISS CLARIDGE.

[Surprised.] Do you wish anything, sir?

FRAYNE.

[With a little sigh of longing.] Ah—­h!

MISS CLARIDGE.

[Coldly.] Shall I cut your nails?

FRAYNE.

[Wofully.] That’s it, dear young lady—­you can’t!

MISS CLARIDGE.

[With hauteur.] Reely!  Why not, sir?

FRAYNE.

I regret to say I bite ’em.

[He goes out.  MISS CLARIDGE titters loudly to MISS LIMBIRD.

SOPHY.

[To MISS CLARIDGE, reprovingly.] Miss Claridge!  I don’t require you at present.

[MISS CLARIDGE withdraws.

SOPHY.

[Going to MISS LIMBIRD.] Miss Limbird, will you oblige me? hot water, please.

[MISS LIMBIRD goes out.  At once SOPHY gives a signal to BASTLING and MURIEL, and keeps guard. BASTLING and MURIEL talk in low, hurried tones.

BASTLING.

[On the right of the circular table.] How are you?

MURIEL.

[On the other side, giving him her hand across the table.] I don’t know. [Withdrawing her hand.] I hate myself!

BASTLING.

Hate yourself?

MURIEL.

For this sort of thing. [Glancing round apprehensively.] Oh!

BASTLING.

Don’t be frightened.  Sophy’s there.

MURIEL.

I’m nervous—­shaky.  When I wrote to you last night I thought I should be able to sneak up to town this morning only with a maid.  And you’ve met Quex too!

BASTLING.

None of them suspect—?

MURIEL.

No.  Oh, but go now!

BASTLING.

Already!  May I not sit and watch you?

MURIEL.

Not to-day.

BASTLING.

You must hear my news, then, from Sophy; she’ll tell you—­

MURIEL.

News?

SOPHY.

[Turning to them sharply.] Hsst!

MURIEL.

Good-bye!

BASTLING.

[Grasping her arm.] Haven’t you one loving little speech for me?

SOPHY.

[Behind the table.] Gar—­r—­rh!

[He releases MURIEL and picks up a large wooden bowl of bath-soap, just as MISS LIMBIRD re-enters with the hot water. MURIEL moves away, hastily.