[_Her eyes flashing scornfully._] You see, your Grace, if a woman is
pretty, and Valma finds Venus's girdle well marked in her palm; and if
he concludes from other signs that she's vain and light and loose; it
isn't much to suppose that there are a few horrid men licking their lips
at the thought of her.

DUCHESS.

[_Shocked._] My good girl! what curious expressions you make use of!
[_Resuming her reading._] That's all.

[SOPHY _goes to the door and opens it._

SOPHY.

I wish your Grace good-night.

DUCHESS.

[_Raising her head for a moment._] Good-night. You are not taking your
robe.

[SOPHY _looks at the robe and hesitates; in the end she gathers it up
uneasily._

SOPHY.

I--I am very much obliged to your Grace--