The Gay Lord Quex - BestLightNovel.com
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[_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._
SOPHY.
[_To_ BASTLING, _taking the soap from him--raising her voice._] Thank you--much obliged. [_Transferring the soap to_ MISS LIMBIRD _and relieving her of the bowl of water._] For Captain Bastling, with a bottle of Fleur de Lilas.
[MISS LIMBIRD _returns to her desk;_ SOPHY _deposits the bowl of water upon the arm of the screen-chair;_ BASTLING _fetches his hat, and gives some directions to_ MISS LIMBIRD.
MURIEL.
[_To_ SOPHY, _in a whisper._] Sophy, these extravagances on his part! I am the cause of them! he is not in the least well off!
SOPHY.
Don't worry; it's all booked. Ha, ha! bless him, he'll never get his account from me! [BASTLING, _with a parting glance in the direction of_ MURIEL _and_ SOPHY, _goes out._] He's gone.
[MISS LIMBIRD _also goes out, carrying the bowl of bath-soap._
MURIEL.
[_With a sigh of relief._] Oh!
SOPHY.
[_Coming to her._] We're by ourselves for a minute. Give me a good hug.
