The Gay Lord Quex - A Comedy in Four Acts by Arthur Wing Pinero
page 82 of 296 (27%)
page 82 of 296 (27%)
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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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