Tsch! please! [He releases himself and she sinks back upon the settee, her eyes closed. He regards her uncomfortably for a moment; then, with some hesitation, he produces from his coat-tail pocket a small box covered with a pretty brocade, with which he toys uneasily.] You expressed a wish to leave here on Friday with a sensation of despair at your heart, Sidonia. If your feeling about our parting is really a deep one, heaven knows I have no desire to make it more acute—

Duchess.

[Partly opening her eyes.] What is in that box, Harry?

Quex.

That is just what I was about to—to—[Lifting the lid and closing it.] These are the little souvenirs which have passed from you to me at odd times.

Duchess.

[With reviving interest.] Ah, yes.

Quex.

I have had no other opportunity—[Looking about him awkwardly for a place to deposit the box.] Will you—? shall I—? what the devil's to become of 'em?

Duchess.