The Gay Lord Quex Part 45

Yes, yes. [_Steadying herself._] Perhaps we are disturbing ourselves unnecessarily.

QUEX.

[_Nodding rea.s.suringly._] Perhaps so.

[_He draws back into the bedroom, but so that he can put his head out at the opening, and watch the_ d.u.c.h.eSS'S _proceedings. She goes to the door and lays her hand upon the key._

d.u.c.h.eSS.

[_Faltering._] Oh! oh, great heavens!

QUEX.

[_Encouragingly._] It's all right--it's all right. Very likely I am mistaken. Now!

[_The_ d.u.c.h.eSS _opens the door suddenly, and_ SOPHY, _who is kneeling at the key-hole, lurches forward._

d.u.c.h.eSS.

Ah!

[SOPHY, _enveloped in the Mandarin's robe, gathers herself up and, without a word, flies away along the pa.s.sage. The_ d.u.c.h.eSS _shuts the door and walks unsteadily to the settee._ QUEX _comes down, his mouth set hard._

QUEX.

I was sure of it.

d.u.c.h.eSS.

[_Aghast._] What will she do? will she tell?

QUEX.

Yes--she'll tell.

d.u.c.h.eSS.

Why do you speak so positively?

QUEX.

She is in Miss Eden's confidence--the trull. And she has always shown her teeth at me, now I remember. [_Drawing a deep breath._] Oh, yes, I see--Miss Fullgarney has meant mischief throughout.

d.u.c.h.eSS.

[_Sinking upon the settee._] Oh!

QUEX.

[_Quietly._] Well--_I'm done_.

d.u.c.h.eSS.

Oh, my reputation!

QUEX.

I'm--done.

d.u.c.h.eSS.

My reputation! I have never ceased to guard that, as you know.

QUEX.

I've lost her.

d.u.c.h.eSS.

My reputation!

QUEX.

Of course, I deserve it. But--

[_He sits, his head bowed._

d.u.c.h.eSS.

[_Looking up._] To think--to think that I allowed this plausible creature to thrust herself upon me! [_He raises his head, glaring fiercely. She beats the pillow._] Oh! oh! my reputation in the hands of this low creature!

QUEX.

Ah--! [_With a half-smothered cry he goes to the door and pulls it open.

The_ d.u.c.h.eSS _runs after him and seizes his arm_.] I said I'd wring her d.a.m.ned neck--I told Frayne so.

d.u.c.h.eSS.

[_Pus.h.i.+ng him away from the door._] Don't! don't! violence will not help us. [_She closes the door; he stands clutching the chair by the writing-table. The clock strikes twelve._] Midnight. [_Leaning upon a chair._] At any rate, you had better go now.

QUEX.

[_Turning to her._] I beg your pardon; I regret having lost control of myself.

d.u.c.h.eSS.

[_Miserably._] It has been a wretchedly disappointing meeting.

QUEX.