What's the matter with you?

SOPHY.

[_Wildly._] Why, it's like selling Muriel! Just to get myself out of
this, I'm simply handing her over to you! I won't do it! I won't! [_She
rushes to the bell-rope and tugs at it again and again._] She sha'n't
marry you! she sha'n't! I've said she sha'n't, and she sha'n't!
[_Leaving the bell-rope and facing him fiercely._] Oh, let your precious
Duchess go scot-free! After all, what does it matter who the woman is
you've been sporting with, so that Miss Muriel is kept from falling into
your clutches! Yes, I'll make short work of _you_, my lord. The ladies
shall hear from _my_ mouth of the lively half-hour I've spent with you,
and how I've suddenly funked the consequences and _raised a hullabaloo_!
Now, my lord! now then! now then!

[_His astonishment has given way to admiration; he gazes at her as if
spell-bound._

QUEX.

[_After a pause, during which she stands before him panting._] By God,
you're a fine plucked 'un! I've never known a better. [_Resolutely._]
No, my girl, I'm damned if you shall suffer! Quick! listen! pull
yourself together!

SOPHY.

[_Hysterically._] Eh? eh?