Sylvia. [Coldly, but still smiling.] Can't she? I'm afraid I haven't a close acquaintance with that sort of girl.
Daisy. Am I being very vulgar? You know, we half-castes are sometimes.
Sylvia. [With a trace of impatience.] Of course you're not vulgar. But I don't know why you want to talk about something that's absolute Greek to me.
Daisy. The natural curiosity of the Eurasian. Everybody tells me that you're engaged to George.
Sylvia. Look at my hand.
[She stretches out her left hand so that Daisy should see there is no ring on the fourth finger. Daisy stares at it for a moment.
Daisy. You always used to wear an engagement ring.
Sylvia. [Gravely.] It was put on my finger by a poor boy who was killed. I meant to wear it always.
Daisy. Why have you taken it off?
[She looks at Sylvia. She can no longer preserve her artificial gaiety and her voice is cold and hard. Before Sylvia can answer George Conway comes in.