Quex.
[Bitterly, withdrawing the chair a little further from the table.] Yes, I agree with you—there is an element of wofulness in this meeting; it is not altogether without pathos.
Duchess.
Not altogether!
[Sitting, facing her.] But, for yourself, my dear Sidonia—well, I have the consolation of believing that directly you turn your back upon Fauncey Court much of the wofulness of your position will evaporate.
Duchess.
Harry!
Quex.
Forgive me—you admit that you delight in colouring even the most ordinary events of life rather highly. If I may put it more roughly, you are disposed, my dear Sidonia—at times, perhaps, a little inopportunely—to burn a good deal of red fire. [Leaning forward.] At any rate, I beg an especial favour of you to-night.