[_Embracing her._] My dear! my darling! ha, ha, ha! you shall be the first to hear of it--I"m engaged.
MURIEL.
Sophy! to whom?
SOPHY.
To Mr. Valma, the great palmist.
MURIEL.
What, the young man you"ve talked to me about--next door? [_Kissing her._] I hope you are doing well for yourself, dear.
SOPHY.
He"s simply perfect! he"s--! oh, how can I be such a brute, talking of my own happiness--! [_In an altered tone._] Darling, Captain Bastling"s regiment is going to be sent off to Hong-Kong.
MURIEL.
[_After a pause--commanding herself._] When?
SOPHY.
In about a fortnight.
MURIEL.
[_Frigidly._] Is this what you had to tell me, from him?
SOPHY.
Yes, and that he must see you to-morrow, alone. I"ll arrange it. Can you manage to be here at twelve?
MURIEL.
I daresay, somehow.
SOPHY.
[_Looking at her in surprise._] I thought you"d be more upset.
MURIEL.
[_Taking_ SOPHY"S _hand._] The truth is, Sophy--I"m glad.
SOPHY.
Glad!
MURIEL.
Awfully glad the chance has come of putting an end to all this. Oh, I"ve been treating him shockingly!
SOPHY.
Him?
MURIEL.
Lord Quex!
SOPHY.
[_Impatiently._] Oh! pooh!
MURIEL.
[_Leaving_ SOPHY.] Yes, after to-morrow he sha"n"t find me looking a guilty fool whenever he speaks to me--by Jove, he sha"n"t! I believe he guessed I haven"t seen Moses in the Bulrushes!
SOPHY.
But, dear, how do you know what Captain Bastling means to say to you to-morrow?
MURIEL.
[_Pausing in her walk._] To say?--good-bye.
SOPHY.
Suppose he asks you to put him out of his misery--marry him directly, on the quiet?
MURIEL.
[_A little unsteadily._] Then I shall tell him finally--my word is given to Lord Quex.
SOPHY.
[_Coming to her again._] Given!--wrung out of you. And just for that you"ll lose the chance of being happy--all your life--with the man you--
[_She turns away, and sits, on the right of the circular table, blowing her nose._
MURIEL.
[_At_ SOPHY"S _side, desperately._] But I tell you, Sophy, I love Lord Quex.
SOPHY.
You may _tell_ me.