Yes, I believe Miss Muriel will place her pretty finger-tips in your charge, [partly to Frayne] while I escort Lady Owbridge and Mrs. Jack to view this new biblical picture—[with a gesture] a few doors up. What is the subject?—Moses in the Bulrushes. [To Frayne.] Come with us, Chick.
Sophy.
It's not quite two, my lord; if you like, you've just time to run in next door and have your palm read.
Quex.
My palm—?
Sophy.
By this extraordinary palmist everybody is talking about—Valma.
Quex.
[Pleasantly.] One of these fortune-telling fellows, eh? [Shaking his head.] I prefer the gipsy on Epsom race-course.
Sophy.