Muriel.
Sophy! to whom?
Sophy.
To Mr. Valma, the great palmist.
Muriel.
What, the young man you've talked to me about—next door? [Kissing her.] I hope you are doing well for yourself, dear.
Sophy.
He's simply perfect! he's—! oh, how can I be such a brute, talking of my own happiness—! [In an altered tone.] Darling, Captain Bastling's regiment is going to be sent off to Hong-Kong.
Muriel.
[After a pause—commanding herself.] When?