My reputation!

QUEX.

Of course, I deserve it. But--

[_He sits, his head bowed._

DUCHESS.

[_Looking up._] To think--to think that I allowed this plausible
creature to thrust herself upon me! [_He raises his head, glaring
fiercely. She beats the pillow._] Oh! oh! my reputation in the hands of
this low creature!

QUEX.

Ah--! [_With a half-smothered cry he goes to the door and pulls it open.
The_ DUCHESS _runs after him and seizes his arm_.] I said I'd wring her
damned neck--I told Frayne so.

DUCHESS.

[_Pushing him away from the door._] Don't! don't! violence will not help
us. [_She closes the door; he stands clutching the chair by the
writing-table. The clock strikes twelve._] Midnight. [_Leaning upon a
chair._] At any rate, you had better go now.

QUEX.