QUEX.

Of course--Mentone.

DUCHESS.

[_Discovering some object in the shoe._] What is this? [_Producing a
garter of pale-blue silk, with a diamond buckle._] A--a--where--? ah,
yes. [_Replacing the things in the box._] Oh, the poor little objects!
dead, yet animate; silent, yet, oh, how eloquent!

[_She passes him and slips the box into the drawer of the writing-table.
The clock strikes a quarter to twelve._

QUEX.

[_Glancing at the clock._] By Jove, it's late! I--I'll leave you now,
Sidonia.

DUCHESS.

[_Turning._] No, no--not yet, Harry. [_Coming to the table and taking up
the box of cigarettes._] Why, you forget--[_offering him the box_]
Argyropulos!

QUEX.

[_Accepting a cigarette reluctantly._] Thanks. [_Again looking at the
clock._] Well--three minutes.