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The Gay Lord Quex - A Comedy in Four Acts by Arthur Wing Pinero
page 82 of 296 (27%)
No--not after to-morrow.

QUEX.

In place of a cold word, a chilling phrase, a warm one--after to-morrow.

MURIEL.

I am going to try.

QUEX.

If I touch your hand, you'll not slip it behind your back in a hurry
[_touching her hand_]--?

MURIEL.

[_Withdrawing it._] Not after to-morrow.

[_She sits; he stands behind the stone bench, leaning over the back of
it._

QUEX.

But why, may I ask, is this bliss reserved till after _to-morrow_?

MURIEL.

I had rather you did _not_ ask me, Quex.

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