[Looking away again.] Oh, I do no more than any of the others.
Pollitt.
Do you expect me to believe that? you, their queen! No, it is you who have helped me to steer my bark into the flowing waters of popularity.
Sophy.
[Nervously.] Extremely pleased, I—I'm sure. [He is close beside her; a cork is drawn loudly. They part, startled and disturbed. She goes to the opening in the partition, raising her voice slightly.] Girls, can't you draw your corks a shade quieter? Nice if somebody was coming upstairs!
Miss Limbird.
[In the distance.] Very sorry, Miss Fullgarney.
Sophy.
[To Pollitt, as she toys with the articles upon the circular table.] Everything is so up this weather. It's their lime-juice champagne.
Pollitt.