[_Turning to them sharply._] Hsst!

MURIEL.

Good-bye!

BASTLING.

[_Grasping her arm._] Haven't you one loving little speech for me?

SOPHY.

[_Behind the table._] Gar--r--rh!

[_He releases_ MURIEL _and picks up a large wooden bowl of bath-soap,
just as_ MISS LIMBIRD _re-enters with the hot water._ MURIEL _moves
away, hastily._

SOPHY.

[_To_ BASTLING, _taking the soap from him--raising her voice._] Thank
you--much obliged. [_Transferring the soap to_ MISS LIMBIRD _and
relieving her of the bowl of water._] For Captain Bastling, with a
bottle of Fleur de Lilas.

[MISS LIMBIRD _returns to her desk;_ SOPHY _deposits the bowl of water
upon the arm of the screen-chair;_ BASTLING _fetches his hat, and gives
some directions to_ MISS LIMBIRD.