The Gay Lord Quex by Arthur W. Pinero


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Page 59

DUCHESS.

Not that one.

MRS. EDEN.

I wonder whether you'd lend it to me?

DUCHESS.

Gladly.

MRS. EDEN.

As you say, there is something about these French writers--

DUCHESS.

Style.

MRS. EDEN.

That's it--style. [_Opening the door._] Ah! lights out.

DUCHESS.

Can you see?

MRS. EDEN.

[_Going out._] There's just a glimmer--

[_She disappears._

DUCHESS.

I'll keep the door open till you have turned the corner.

[SOPHY _comes back and stands watching the_ DUCHESS. _The_ DUCHESS
_remains at the open door for a little, while, then kisses her hand to_
MRS. EDEN _and closes the door._

SOPHY.

Shall I brush your Grace's hair now?

DUCHESS.

[_Going to the writing-table and taking up a book._] No. I will do it.
The exertion of brushing my hair, I often find, encourages sleep. I'll
put myself to bed. Run away. Don't let me see or hear anything of you
till the morning. Eight o'clock. [_She reclines upon the settee and
opens her book._ SOPHY, _eyeing her keenly, is about to withdraw._]
Oh--Sophy! [SOPHY _returns._] Do you--believe in Mr. Valma?

SOPHY.

Believe in him, your Grace?

DUCHESS.

Believe that when he reads a woman's hand he has really the power of
divination--the power he professes?

SOPHY.

Oh, yes.

DUCHESS.

[_Looking away._] Then if he tells a woman that a great many men are
deeply in love with her, you--you--?

SOPHY.

I'm sure he knows what he's talking about.

DUCHESS.

[_With a little purr of contentment._] Ah! [_Assuming indifference._] I
heard recently of an instance of his having conjectured such a state of
affairs from the lines of a woman's hand. [_Severely._] I could only
hope that his surmise was an incorrect one.

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Books | Photos | Paul Mutton | Mon 22nd Dec 2025, 23:50