Muriel.
[In horror.] Sophy!
Sophy.
[Discomposed—rising.] Er—if I'm to do anything to your nails—
[As Sophy is moving towards the manicure-table, Muriel intercepts her.
Muriel.
You are surely not suggesting that Lord Quex has ever descended—?
Sophy.
[Hastily.] No, no, no. [Brushing past Muriel and seating herself before the screen-chair.] Come; they'll all be here directly.