QUEX.

No? I see, I am a day too soon in putting even that little question.

MURIEL.

Ah, I'll tell you this--I am going to turn over a new leaf, after
to-morrow.

QUEX.

You! your pages are all milk-white. What can you detect upon one of them
to induce you to turn it?

MURIEL.

[_Gazing into space._] I--I've been scribbling there--scrawling--drawing
pictures--

QUEX.

Pictures--of what?

MURIEL.

You shall know, perhaps, some day.

QUEX.

After to-morrow?