Quex.
Hey?
[She returns, carrying her night-dress case—a thing of white satin with a monogram and coronet embroidered upon it. She holds it up to him in explanation; he nods, and she lets herself out. He immediately locks the door at which she has departed and slips the key into his waistcoat pocket. This done, he pulls the bell-rope communicating with the maid's room and takes up a position against the wall so that the opening of the passage door conceals him from the view of the person entering. After a pause the door is opened and Sophy appears. The frills of her night-dress peep out from under the Mandarin's robe, and she is wearing a pair of scarlet cloth slippers; altogether she presents an odd, fantastic figure. She pauses in the doorway hesitatingly, then steadies herself and, with a defiant air, stalks into the bedroom. Directly she has moved away, Quex softly closes the door, locks it, and pockets the key. Meanwhile Sophy, looking about the bedroom for the Duchess, discovers the paper upon the bed. She picks it up, reads it and replaces it, and, coming back into the boudoir, encounters Quex.
Sophy.
Oh!
Quex.
[With a careless nod.] Ah?
Sophy.
[Recovering herself, and speaking with a contemptuous smile.] So her Grace has packed herself off to Mrs. Eden's room. [Firmly.] Who rang for me, please?
Quex.