The Gay Lord Quex by Arthur W. Pinero


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Page 19

[_Coldly._] Shall I cut your nails?

FRAYNE.

[_Wofully._] That's it, dear young lady--you can't!

MISS CLARIDGE.

[_With hauteur._] Reely! Why not, sir?

FRAYNE.

I regret to say I bite 'em.

[_He goes out_. MISS CLARIDGE _titters loudly to_ MISS LIMBIRD.

SOPHY.

[_To_ MISS CLARIDGE, _reprovingly._] Miss Claridge! I don't require you
at present.

[MISS CLARIDGE _withdraws._

SOPHY.

[_Going to_ MISS LIMBIRD.] Miss Limbird, will _you_ oblige me? hot
water, please.

[MISS LIMBIRD _goes out. At once_ SOPHY _gives a signal to_ BASTLING
_and_ MURIEL, _and keeps guard._ BASTLING _and_ MURIEL _talk in low,
hurried tones._

BASTLING.

[_On the right of the circular table._] How are you?

MURIEL.

[_On the other side, giving him her hand across the table._] I don't
know. [_Withdrawing her hand._] I hate myself!

BASTLING.

Hate yourself?

MURIEL.

For this sort of thing. [_Glancing round apprehensively._] Oh!

BASTLING.

Don't be frightened. Sophy's there.

MURIEL.

I'm nervous--shaky. When I wrote to you last night I thought I should be
able to sneak up to town this morning only with a maid. And you've met
Quex too!

BASTLING.

None of them suspect--?

MURIEL.

No. Oh, but go now!

BASTLING.

Already! May I not sit and watch you?

MURIEL.

Not to-day.

BASTLING.

You must hear my news, then, from Sophy; she'll tell you--

MURIEL.

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Books | Photos | Paul Mutton | Fri 19th Dec 2025, 2:34