Quex.
[Pleasantly, with a slight bow of acknowledgment.] Before we go further, I may tell you that her Grace has informed me of what passed between you this morning.
Sophy.
Nothing passed.
Quex.
Precisely.
The lady beamed upon me, for all the world as if she was an angel spending a Saturday-to-Monday here below; and I dressed her hair for her just as if I didn't want to tear it out by the roots. And then she turned up her eyes and said she hoped every happiness would attend me, and went downstairs to prayers.
Quex.
Will you allow me to—to thank you?