Quex.
[Coolly.] Well? and what then? You listen to a conversation carried on in an open spot, from which your mischievous ears manage to detach the phrase "to-night." My explanation, if I am called upon to make one, will be absurdly simple.
[Derisively.] Ha, ha! will it! ha, ha, ha! I daresay!
Quex.
Yes. You see, I promised her Grace that I would send a book to her room to-night—to-night. My man had gone to bed; I brought it myself, intending to hand it to Mrs. Watson, her maid. In the meantime, the Duchess had joined Mrs. Eden and I found you here.
Sophy.
You couldn't tell such an abominable lie!
Quex.
[Imperturbably.] I found you here. And then—what is the obvious sequel to the story? [Shrugging his shoulders.] I'm a wicked man, Sophy, and you're an undeniably pretty girl—and the devil dared me.