QUEX.

Very well.

SOPHY.

How dare you try to make me write such a thing! [_He turns from her and,
book in hand, resumes his recumbent position on the sofa. She approaches
him, falteringly._] What would you do with that, if I did write it?

QUEX.

Simply hold it in my possession, as security for your silence, until
after my marriage with Miss Eden; then return it to you.

SOPHY.

Oh, won't your lordship trust me?

QUEX.

[_Contemptuously._] Trust you! [_After a pause, she returns to the
writing-table and takes up her pen again._] Where were we?

SOPHY.

[_Feebly._] "I quite understand--"

QUEX.