To-morrow at twelve. You'll manage it?
SOPHY.
How can I--alone?
BASTLING.
You're our only friend. Think!
SOPHY.
[_Glancing suddenly towards the left._] Valma's rooms!
[FRAYNE _has wandered to the back of the circular table, and, through
his eyeglass, is again observing_ SOPHY. QUEX _now joins him._
BASTLING.
[_Perceiving them--to_ SOPHY.] Look out!
SOPHY.
[_Taking a bottle from his hand--raising her voice._] You'll receive the
perfume in the course of the afternoon. [_Replacing the bottle upon the
table._] Shall I do your nails?
BASTLING.
Thanks.
[_They move away. He takes his place in the screen-chair; she sits
facing him. During the process of manicuring they talk together
earnestly._
FRAYNE.
[_Eyeing_ SOPHY.] Slim, but shapely. Slim, but shapely.
MISS MOON _enters, with a bowl of water. Having adjusted the bowl upon
the arm of the screen-chair, she retires._
FRAYNE.
There's another of 'em. Plain. [_Watching_ MISS MOON _as she goes out._]
I don't know--rather alluring.
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