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.

Sophy.

[Her eyes flashing scornfully.] You see, your Grace, if a woman is pretty, and Valma finds Venus's girdle well marked in her palm; and if he concludes from other signs that she's vain and light and loose; it isn't much to suppose that there are a few horrid men licking their lips at the thought of her.

Duchess.

[Shocked.] My good girl! what curious expressions you make use of! [Resuming her reading.] That's all.

[Sophy goes to the door and opens it.

Sophy.

I wish your Grace good-night.