[Withdrawing the paper.] Ah, no.
Sophy.
Mayn't I?
Muriel.
[Yielding the paper impulsively.] Yes, you may.
[Muriel turns away and stands leaning upon the back of the screen-chair on the left, with her face in her hands. Sophy places the jeweller's case upon the circular table.
Sophy.
[Reading with difficulty.] "To Napier from Muriel. I only—" what? You have blotted it.
Muriel.
[With a sob.] Have I?