She made you do it! [_Replacing the bottle, sternly._] And who, pray,
will accept your word, upon this or any other point, against that of a
lady of the position of the Duchess of Strood?

[_He walks away from her and examines the books upon the writing-table.
She sits on the settee, a blank expression upon her face._

SOPHY.

[_After a little consideration, wiping her brow with the back of her
hand._] At any rate, my darling--Miss Muriel--would quickly see through
a horrid trick of this sort.

QUEX.

I bet you a dozen boxes of gloves to a case of your manicure instruments
that she doesn't.

SOPHY.

I said to her to-day, at my place, that I was certain, if I could meet
you alone in some quiet spot I could get a kiss out of you.

QUEX.

[_Under his breath, glaring at her._] You--! [_Coolly._] Oh, now I
understand. Yes, my dear, but Miss Eden is scarcely likely to believe
that a modest girl would carry her devotion to this extent. Good
heavens! why, your attire--! [_She pulls her robe about her sharply._]
And a woman who compromises herself, recollect, is never measured by her