[_There is another pause; then her face lights up, and she comes down to him swiftly._
SOPHY.
[_Close to him._] Show me your nails, my lord.
QUEX.
[_Lowering his paper._] My nails?
SOPHY.
[_Taking his hand and examining it._] Excuse me. Oh, my lord, for shame!
QUEX.
You take exception to them?
SOPHY.
This is hacking, not cutting. You ought never to be allowed within a mile of a pair of scissors.
QUEX.
[_Looking at his other hand._] Oh, come! they"re hardly as bad as all that.
SOPHY
[_Examining that hand also._] Ha, ha, ha!
QUEX.
[_Rising, somewhat abashed._] Ha! I confess I am a little unskilful at such operations.
SOPHY.
No gentleman should trust to himself where his nails are concerned. Why, a man"s hand has lost him a young lady"s affections before this! I"ve heard of heaps of cases where matches have been broken off--
QUEX.
[_Putting his hands behind him, smiling._] Really? the results of manicure are more far-reaching than I had imagined.
SOPHY.
You, see, my lord, when a man"s courting he is free to look his young lady in the face for as long as he chooses; it"s considered proper and attentive. But the girl is expected to drop _her_ eyes, and then--what has _she_ to look at? Why, a well-trimmed hand or an ugly one. [_Taking off her rings._] Now then, I"ll do wonders for you in ten minutes.
QUEX.
Thank you; I am not going indoors just yet.
SOPHY.
No need to go indoors. [_Depositing her rings upon the table and opening her bag._] I"ve got my bag here, with all my tools--see!
QUEX.
Ah, but I won"t trouble you this evening. Another occasion--
SOPHY.
[_Arranging her manicure instruments, &c., upon the table._] No trouble at all, my lord--quite an honour. [_Indicating the stone bench._] Please sit down there. [_Producing a little bra.s.s bowl._] Water--?
[_She runs to the fountain and fills her bowl from its basin._
QUEX.
[_Crossing, hesitatingly, to the right--looking at his nails and speaking in a formal manner._] You have been bidden to Fauncey Court for rest and relaxation, Miss Fullgarney; it is most obliging of you to allow your pleasure to be disturbed in this way.
SOPHY.
[_Returning to him._] Oh, don"t say that, my lord. [_Putting the bowl on the table and dragging the garden-chair forward to face him._] Business _is_ a pleasure, sometimes.
[_Her close proximity to him forces him back upon the bench._
QUEX.
[_Seated--stiffly._] You must, at least, let me open an account at your excellent establishment.
SOPHY.
Not I. [_Seated--taking his right hand._] One may work occasionally for love, I should hope? [_archly_] ha, ha! just for love, eh?
QUEX
[_Uncomfortably._] No, no, I couldn"t permit it--I couldn"t permit it.
SOPHY.
[_Holding his hand almost caressingly._] Well, well! we"ll see--we"ll see. [_She clips his nails briskly and methodically. While she does so she again hums a song, looking up at him at intervals enticingly, under her lashes. Breaking off in her song._] My goodness! what a smooth, young hand you have!
QUEX.
[_His discomfort increasing._] Er--indeed?
SOPHY.
Many a man of six-and-twenty would be glad to own such hands, I can tell you. [_Patting his hand reprovingly._] Keep still! [_It is now his turn to hum a song, which he does, under his breath, to disguise his embarra.s.sment. She looks up at him._] But then, you"re an awfully young man for your age, in every way, aren"t you?
QUEX.