fingers._] Yes--by Jove--! [_Pointing to the chair by the
writing-table._] Sit down. [_Imperatively._] Sit down. [_She sits,
wonderingly. He goes to the table, selects a plain sheet of paper and
lays it before her. Then he hands her a pen._] Write as I tell you.

SOPHY.

[_Tremblingly._] What?

QUEX.

[_Pointing to the ink._] Ink. [_Dictating._] "My lord." [_She writes; he
walks about as he dictates._] "My lord. I am truly obliged to you--"

SOPHY

Yes.

QUEX.

"For your great liberality--"

SOPHY.

[_Turning._] Eh?

QUEX.

[_Sternly._] Go on. [_She writes._] "For your great liberality, and in
once more availing myself of it I quite understand--"