MURIEL.

[_To_ SOPHY, _in a whisper._] Sophy, these extravagances on his part! I
am the cause of them! he is not in the least well off!

SOPHY.

Don't worry; it's all booked. Ha, ha! bless him, he'll never get his
account from me! [BASTLING, _with a parting glance in the direction of_
MURIEL _and_ SOPHY, _goes out._] He's gone.

[MISS LIMBIRD _also goes out, carrying the bowl of bath-soap._

MURIEL.

[_With a sigh of relief._] Oh!

SOPHY.

[_Coming to her._] We're by ourselves for a minute. Give me a good hug.
[_Embracing her._] My dear! my darling! ha, ha, ha! you shall be the
first to hear of it--I'm engaged.

MURIEL.

Sophy! to whom?

SOPHY.

To Mr. Valma, the great palmist.