_
SOPHY.
[_Reading with difficulty._] "To Napier from Muriel. I only--" what? You
_have_ blotted it.
MURIEL.
[_With a sob._] Have I?
SOPHY.
You've been crying over it.
MURIEL.
Yes.
SOPHY.
"I only--" I can't read it.
MURIEL.
[_Through her tears._]
"I only know--we loved in vain:
I only feel--Farewell!--Farewell!"
SOPHY.
[_In a low voice._] Very nice, darling. [_She lays the paper tenderly
upon the box and goes to_ MURIEL. _Eyeing her keenly._] You really _are_
determined, then, to wish him good-bye?
MURIEL.
[_Turning to her and weeping upon her shoulder._] Oh, Sophy! Sophy!
SOPHY.
There, there! it'll soon be over.
MURIEL.
[_Raising her head._] Over! yes, yes! over!
SOPHY.
And--p'r'aps it's all for the best, you know.
MURIEL.
For the best!
SOPHY.
What I mean is, that very likely we've both of us been a little cruel to
poor Lord Quex--hard on him--
MURIEL.
[_Indignantly._] _You_ say this to me! [_Distractedly.
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