The Gay Lord Quex Part 54

[_Distractedly._] Let me out! oh, yes, he _is_ jealous of me; he _is_ jealous of me, and we've had a few words about you as it is--

QUEX.

Ah!

SOPHY.

Oh, this would ruin me with Valma! oh, if your lords.h.i.+p hasn't any feeling for me, don't let Valma think that I'm a--that I'm--! [_Going down on her knees before him._] Oh, I won't tell on you! I promise I won't, if you'll only let me go! I will hold my tongue about you and the d.u.c.h.ess! I take my solemn oath I'll hold my tongue!

 

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 pa.s.sage-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 friends.h.i.+p comes to an end." [_She rises and faces him._] Go on.

SOPHY.

Our friends.h.i.+p!

QUEX.

Yes.

SOPHY.

Our--_friends.h.i.+p_!

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 rec.u.mbent position on the sofa. She approaches him, falteringly._] What would you do with that, if I did write it?

QUEX.