I won't. [_With a slight inclination of the head_ QUEX _turns away and
stands leaning against the settee with his back towards_ SOPHY. _The
clock strikes the quarter-of-an-hour. There is a short silence._] If
your lordship has quite done with me--? [_He makes no response. She
tosses her head._] I wish you good-night, my lord. [_She goes to the
passage-door and turns the handle._] It's locked. This door's locked.
[_Looking at him._] The door's locked. [_Rattling at the door-handle._]
Where's the key? [_Searching about on the floor near the door._] Where's
the--? [_Coming forward a step or two._] Has your lordship got the key
of this door? [_Still obtaining no answer, she stands staring at him for
a moment; then she goes quickly to the other door and tries the handle.
As she does so,_ QUEX _turns sharply and, leaning upon the back of the
settee, watches her. After shaking the door-handle vigorously, she
wheels round and faces him, indignantly._] What's the meaning of this?

QUEX.

[_Grimly._] Ah!

SOPHY.

Oh--! [_She sweeps round to avoid him, and then runs into the bedroom.
When she has gone he seats himself in the chair by the writing-table in
a lazy attitude, his legs stretched out, his hands in his pockets. After
a moment or two she returns breathlessly._] I'm locked in!

QUEX.

Yes.