Quex.
[To Sophy.] You spoke, a little while ago, of giving me "a chance." I see now what was in your mind. There's a risk, then, that this good-bye may not be final?
Sophy.
[Stammeringly.] W—well, I—
Quex.
[Sharply.] Eh?
Sophy.
[Breaking down.] Oh, my lord, recollect, she's not much more than a girl!
Quex.
No, she is not much more than a girl; but you—though you and she are of the same age—you are a woman. You know your world, upstairs and downstairs, boudoir and kitchen. Yet you own you have encouraged her in this, made her clandestine meetings with this penniless beggar possible. You—! you deserve to be whipped, Miss Fullgarney—whipped!