[Faintly.] My lord—! [He remains silent. She releases the bell-rope.] Oh—h—h! [She pauses by the settee, looking down upon him as though she would strike him; then she walks away, and, seating herself in the chair by the bedside, drops her head upon the bed. The clock tinkles the half-hour. There is a short silence. Suddenly she rises, uttering a sharp cry, with her hand to her heart.] Oh! [panting] oh! oh!
Quex.
[Looking at her.] What now?
Sophy.
Valma!
Quex.
Valma?
Sophy.
Mr. Valma! oh, you know he is in the house!
Quex.
He! what's he doing here?
Sophy.
The housekeeper gave him permission to sleep here. You know! [Stamping her foot.] Don't you know?
Quex.
[Sitting up, alertly.] Ho! my jealous friend, the palmist. He is on the premises, hey?
[Distractedly.] Let me out! oh, yes, he is jealous of me; he is jealous of me, and we've had a few words about you as it is—
Quex.
Ah!
Sophy.
Oh, this would ruin me with Valma! oh, if your lordship hasn't any feeling for me, don't let Valma think that I'm a—that I'm—! [Going down on her knees before him.] Oh, I won't tell on you! I promise I won't, if you'll only let me go! I will hold my tongue about you and the Duchess! I take my solemn oath I'll hold my tongue!
Quex.
[Rising.] Ha! [Calmly.] No, my dear Sophy, I wasn't aware that your fiancé is in the house. So the situation comes home to you a little more poignantly now, does it?
Sophy.
[Rising and going to the passage-door.] Unlock the door! where's the key?
Quex.
Wait, wait, wait! And you're going to keep your mouth shut after all, are you?
Sophy.
[Rattling the door-handle.] Yes, yes, Unlock it!
Don't be in such a hurry.
Sophy.
I give you my sacred word—
Quex.
[Thoughtfully.] Tsch, tsch, tsch! [Sharply, with a snap of the fingers.] Yes—by Jove—! [Pointing to the chair by the writing-table.] Sit down. [Imperatively.] Sit down. [She sits, wonderingly. He goes to the table, selects a plain sheet of paper and lays it before her. Then he hands her a pen.] Write as I tell you.
Sophy.
[Tremblingly.] What?
Quex.
[Pointing to the ink.] Ink. [Dictating.] "My lord." [She writes; he walks about as he dictates.] "My lord. I am truly obliged to you—"
Sophy
Yes.
Quex.
"For your great liberality—"
Sophy.
[Turning.] Eh?
Quex.
[Sternly.] Go on. [She writes.] "For your great liberality, and in once more availing myself of it I quite understand—"
Sophy.
[Weakly.] Oh! [After writing.] Yes.
Quex.
"I quite understand that our friendship comes to an end." [She rises and faces him.] Go on.
Sophy.
Our friendship!
Quex.
Yes.
Sophy.
Our—friendship!
Quex.
Yes.
Sophy.
I won't.
Quex.
Very well.
Sophy.
How dare you try to make me write such a thing! [He turns from her and, book in hand, resumes his recumbent position on the sofa. She approaches him, falteringly.] What would you do with that, if I did write it?
Quex.
Simply hold it in my possession, as security for your silence, until after my marriage with Miss Eden; then return it to you.
Sophy.
Oh, won't your lordship trust me?
Quex.
[Contemptuously.] Trust you! [After a pause, she returns to the writing-table and takes up her pen again.] Where were we?
Sophy.
[Feebly.] "I quite understand—"
Quex.
"That our friendship comes to an end." [She writes. He rises and looks over her shoulder.] "While thanking you again for past and present favours—"
Sophy.
[Groaning as she writes.] Oh! oh!
Quex.
"I undertake not to approach or annoy you in the future—"
Sophy.
Oh!
Quex.
"Upon any pretext whatsoever. Yours respectfully—" [After watching the completion of the letter.] Date it vaguely—[with a wave of the hand] "Monday afternoon." Blot it. [Moving away.] That's right. [She rises, reading the letter with staring eyes. Then she comes to him and yields the letter, and he folds it neatly and puts it into his breast-pocket.] Thank you. I think I need detain you no longer.
Sophy.
[With a gasp.] Ah! stop a bit! no, I won't!
Quex.
What's the matter with you?
Sophy.
[Wildly.] Why, it's like selling Muriel! Just to get myself out of this, I'm simply handing her over to you! I won't do it! I won't! [She rushes to the bell-rope and tugs at it again and again.] She sha'n't marry you! she sha'n't! I've said she sha'n't, and she sha'n't! [Leaving the bell-rope and facing him fiercely.] Oh, let your precious Duchess go scot-free! After all, what does it matter who the woman is you've been sporting with, so that Miss Muriel is kept from falling into your clutches! Yes, I'll make short work of you, my lord. The ladies shall hear from my mouth of the lively half-hour I've spent with you, and how I've suddenly funked the consequences and raised a hullabaloo! Now, my lord! now then! now then!
[His astonishment has given way to admiration; he gazes at her as if spell-bound.
Quex.
[After a pause, during which she stands before him panting.] By God, you're a fine plucked 'un! I've never known a better. [Resolutely.] No, my girl, I'm damned if you shall suffer! Quick! listen! pull yourself together!
Sophy.
[Hysterically.] Eh? eh?
Quex.
[Taking her letter from his pocket and thrusting it into her hand.] Here's your letter! take it—I won't have it. [Going quickly to the passage-door, unlocking it, and throwing the door open.] There you are!
Sophy.
[Sobbing.] Oh! oh!
[There is a hurried, irregular knocking at the door.
Quex.
[Gripping her arm.] Hush! [In a whisper.] Call out—wait!
Sophy.
[Raising her voice—unsteadily.] Wait—one moment!
Quex.
[In her ear, as he gives her the key of the door.] Say the Duchess is with Mrs. Jack; say she wants her letters brought to her in the morning; say anything—
Sophy.
Yes, yes. [Weeping and shaking and gasping, she goes to the door and unlocks it. He tip-toes into the bedroom and turns out the light there. She opens the door an inch or two.] Yes?
Two Voices.
[A mans and a woman's.] What is it? what's the matter?
Sophy.
[Steadying herself, with an effort.] Nothing. Only her Grace has gone to Mrs. Eden's room and wishes her letters taken there in the morning most particularly—see?
The Voices.
What did you ring like that for? Thought the place was afire!
Sophy.
Oh, don't make a fuss about nothing. You servants are an old-fashioned lot. Bong swor!
The Voices.
[Angrily.] Oh, good-night.
Sophy.
Ha, ha, ha!
[She closes the door and totters away from it, sobbing hysterically, as Quex comes to her.
Quex.
[Kindly.] Be off. Go to bed. Serve me how you please. Miss Fullgarney, upon my soul, I—I humbly beg your pardon.
[Passing him.] Oh! oh! oh! [Turning to him.] Oh, God bless you! You—you—you're a gentleman! I'll do what I can for you!
[She staggers to the passage-door and disappears, closing the door behind her. Then he extinguishes the remaining light, and cautiously lets himself out at the other door.
end of the third act.
THE FOURTH ACT
The scene is the same, in every respect, as that of the First Act.
[On the right Miss Claridge is manicuring a young gentleman. On the left Miss Moon is putting her manicure-table in order, as if she has recently disposed of a customer. Miss Limbird is again at her desk, busy over accounts. The door-gong sounds and, after a short interval, Quex and Frayne enter, preceded by Miss Huddle. Frayne appears particularly depressed and unwell.
Quex.
[Nodding to Miss Limbird.] Good morning.
Miss Limbird.
Morning.
Quex.
[To Miss Huddle.] Miss Fullgarney has not yet arrived, you say?
Miss Huddle.
Not yet.
[Looking at his watch.] Twenty minutes to twelve.
Miss Moon.
Yes, we've never known Miss Fullgarney to be so late at her business. I do hope she hasn't been run over and injured.
Miss Huddle.
Or murdered by tramps.
Quex.
My dear young lady!
Miss Moon.
Well, one does read such things in the ha'penny papers.
Miss Huddle.
And she went down to Richmond yesterday afternoon, you know—to Fauncey Court.
Quex.
Of course I know—and slept there.
Miss Moon.
Oh, did she?
Quex.
And has come up to town this morning.
Miss Huddle.
Then she'll have gone home, I expect, to change.
That's what she's done. [Slightly disappointed.] Well, I should have been sorry if anything had happened to her.
Quex.
Naturally.
Miss Huddle.
So should I, though I'm quite new here.
Miss Moon.
It never gives me any pleasure to hear of people having their limbs crushed.
Miss Huddle.
Or being murdered by tramps.
Miss Moon.
Won't your lordship take a chair? [To Frayne, who has wandered down to the window.] And you, sir?
[The young gentleman, his manicuring being finished, has risen, paid Miss Limbird and departed, followed by Miss Claridge carrying her bowl and towel. The door-gong sounds.
Quex.
Is that she?
Miss Moon.
No; that young gentleman leaving.
[Miss Moon, carrying her bowl and towel, and Miss Huddle, after exchanging a few words with Miss Limbird, withdraw.
Frayne.
[To Quex, biliously.] How revoltingly hideous these gals look this morning!
Quex.
Same as yesterday. You're seedy.
Frayne.
[Closing his eyes.] Oh, shockingly seedy. [Sitting.] I'm in for a go of malaria, I fear.
Quex.
Shame of me to have routed you out of bed and bothered you with my affairs. [Sitting.] But you can quite understand, Chick, how confoundedly anxious I am as to the attitude Miss Fullgarney will adopt towards me to-day.
Frayne.
Quite, quite. Harry—
Quex.
Yes?
Frayne.
What champagne was it we drank last night at Richmond?
Quex.
[With some bitterness.] Ha! Félix Poubelle, Carte d'Or.
[Shaking his head.] I can't take champagne.
Quex.
Can't you!
Frayne.
I mean I oughtn't to.
Quex.
Oh. [Referring to his watch again.] I've given you a pretty minute account of last night's tragedy, Chick. "I'll do what I can for you"—those were the Fullgarney's words. Good lord, they came at me like a bolt from the blue! Does she intend to act up to them, eh?—that's the question. Surely she'll act up to them, Chick?
Frayne.
Have you met the ladies this morning?
Quex.
Yes—except Muriel, who didn't show at breakfast.
Frayne.
How did you find 'em?
Quex.
Amiability itself; they know nothing. [Rising and looking down upon Frayne.] You see, Chick, all that Miss Fullgarney has to do—if she hasn't already done it—is to tell a trifling taradiddle to Muriel concerning the events of last night. Well, in effect, she has promised to do that, hasn't she? [Impatiently.] Eh?
[Gloomily.] Frankly, Harry, I shouldn't be in the least surprised if the jade sold you.
Quex.
[His jaw falling.] You wouldn't?
Frayne.
No.
Quex.
Phew! I should. [Warmly.] By Jove, I should!
Frayne.
I have conceived a great aversion to her—a long, scraggy gal.
Quex.
[With enthusiasm.] As full of courage as a thoroughbred!
Frayne.
[Closing his eyes.] I can picture her elbows; sharp, pointed elbows—the barbed fence of the spiteful woman.
Quex.
Pooh! yesterday she was alluring.
Frayne.
[Rising painfully.] Yesterday—! [Gravely.] Harry, do you know there are moments when I feel that I am changing towards the sex; when I fancy I can discern the skeleton, as it were, through the rounded cheek?
You!
Frayne.
Yes, this novel sentiment is undoubtedly gaining possession of your old friend—gradually, perhaps, but surely.
Quex.
[Regarding him searchingly.] Excuse me, Chick—did you turn into the Beefsteak when you got back from Richmond last night?
Frayne.
For an hour. Oh, a great mistake.
Quex.
What, a little whisky on the top of champagne?
Frayne.
[Gazing pathetically at Quex with watery eyes.] A good deal of champagne underneath a lot of whisky.
[The door-gong sounds.
Quex.
Who's this? [He walks to the entrance, and looks into the further room.] The Fullgarney.
[He returns to his former position, as Sophy enters quickly followed by Miss Claridge, Miss Moon, and Miss Huddle. Sophy—dressed as at the end of the First Act—is pale, red-eyed, and generally unstrung. She comes to Quex, disconcerted by his presence.
[Confronting him.] Oh, good morning.
Quex.
May I beg a few moments—?
Sophy.
Er—certainly. I'll just take off my things—
[He joins Frayne. She goes across the room where she is surrounded by her girls.]
Miss Claridge.
Oh, Miss Fullgarney, how ill you look!
Miss Moon.
You do seem queer!
Miss Huddle.
Just as if you were sickening for something.
Miss Limbird.
[Coming between Miss Claridge and Sophy.] Quite ghostly!
Sophy.
I'm all right, girls; I've had a bad night, that's all. [Giving her umbrella to Miss Claridge and her bag to Miss Moon, who passes it to Miss Huddle.] Here! hi! take that beastly bag. [To Miss Limbird, who is removing her hat.] Oh, don't waggle my head, whatever you do! [To Miss Moon, who is pulling at her jacket.] Tear the thing off. [Stripping off her gloves, and speaking in a whisper.] Girls, I don't want to be disturbed for five minutes.
Miss Limbird.
Very well, Miss Fullgarney.
Sophy.
[Glancing at Quex and Frayne, who are now looking out of the window, with their backs towards her.] If Miss Eden should happen to turn up before I'm free, just mention who I'm engaged with, will you?
Miss Moon.
Yes, Miss Fullgarney.
Sophy.
That'll do. [With sudden fierceness.] What are you all staring at? Haven't any of you ever slept in a strange bed?
[The girls retreat hastily, each carrying an article belonging to Sophy.
Quex.
[Advancing a step or two.] I am exceedingly sorry to see you looking so fatigued.
Sophy.
[Faintly.] Didn't close my eyes the whole night. [She drops the portière over the entrance, and approaches Quex.] Well, my lord?
Quex.
I have ventured to call upon you, Miss Fullgarney, in the hope of ratifying the excellent understanding with which we parted last night.
Sophy.
[Pointing to Frayne.] Well, but—er—
Quex.
Oh—oh, yes— [To Frayne, who has turned away.] Frayne— [To Sophy.] I have taken my old and trusted friend, Sir Chichester Frayne, into my confidence in this regrettable business.
Sophy.
[Dubiously.] Indeed?
Quex.
I thought it desirable there should be a third party—
Sophy.
P'r'aps you're right. [Cuttingly.] One needs a third party when one has the honour of meeting your lordship—[Checking herself.] Excuse me.
Quex.
[Pleasantly, with a slight bow of acknowledgment.] Before we go further, I may tell you that her Grace has informed me of what passed between you this morning.
Sophy.
Nothing passed.
Quex.
Precisely.
The lady beamed upon me, for all the world as if she was an angel spending a Saturday-to-Monday here below; and I dressed her hair for her just as if I didn't want to tear it out by the roots. And then she turned up her eyes and said she hoped every happiness would attend me, and went downstairs to prayers.
Quex.
Will you allow me to—to thank you?
Sophy.
[Frigidly.] You needn't. [Abruptly.] Oh, by-the-by, the lady gave me a—a keepsake, she called it. [Endeavouring to extract some bulky object from her pocket.] I mean to burn the thing, once I've found out what's inside it. But I can't get it open. Here it is.
[She exhibits the little box, covered with brocade, which Quex has returned to the Duchess in the previous Act.
Quex.
[Surprised.] By Jove!
Sophy.
[Simply.] Eh?
Quex.
Er—I was wondering what she can have put in that little box.
Sophy.
Yes, I wonder. [Pulling at the lid.] It's locked.
I fancy it has one of those Bramah locks which snap. I may have a key— [He produces his key-ring and, promptly selecting a key, unlocks the box.] Fortunate coincidence.
[She opens the box and takes out the first thing that presents itself—the blue silk garter with the diamond buckle.
Sophy.
[Scandalised.] Oh, my gracious! I beg your pardon.
[She leaves him hurriedly and hides the box in the cabinet.
Quex.
[Quietly to Frayne.] Chick, she has passed the souvenirs on to Miss Fullgarney!
Frayne.
[Bitterly.] How like a woman!
Quex.
Some women.
Frayne.
[In disgust.] Pah!
Quex.
Yesterday she was alluring.
Frayne.
[Waving the past from him.] Yesterday—[with a slight hiccup] hic! [Turning away apologetically.] The heat in this room—
[He walks away, as Sophy returns to Quex.
Quex.
[To Sophy.] Well, I must not detain you longer, Miss Fullgarney. But there is, of course, one point upon which I should like to feel completely assured. You have seen Miss Eden—?
Sophy.
No; not since last evening.
Quex.
[Anxiously.] When do you—?
Sophy.
[Looking away.] I'm rather expecting her to pop in here during the day.
Quex.
Quite so. And—and then—?
Sophy.
[Facing him candidly.] Your lordship told me last night that your little visit to the Duchess was a perfectly innocent one?
Quex.
Absolutely innocent. [Hesitatingly.] I fear I cannot go further than that.
[Fanning himself with his handkerchief.] By gad, why not, Harry? We are in Miss Fullgarney's hands. [To Sophy.] His lordship went to her Grace's apartment solely to return some gifts which he had accepted from her in the—ah—dim, distant past, and to say adieu.
Sophy.
[Witheringly.] Ah, I knew she was a double-faced thing; [looking at Quex relentingly] but p'r'aps one has been a little down on you.
Quex.
[Meekly.] You have it in your power to atone for that amply.
Sophy.
[Half-feelingly, half-sullenly.] At any rate, you behaved, in the end, like a gentleman to me last night. And so—when I see Miss Muriel—
Quex.
Yes?
Sophy.
[Deliberately.] I am going to tell her a lie.
Quex.
[With some emotion.] Miss Fullgarney, I—I—
Sophy.
Oh, I said I'd do what I can for you. [Uncomfortably.] And this is all I can do.
[Light-heartedly.] All!
Sophy.
Just to give you a chance.
Quex.
Chance! [Drawing a deep breath.] You place my happiness beyond danger.
Sophy.
[Impulsively, offering him her hand.] I wish you luck, my lord.
[He takes her hand and wrings it.
Frayne.
[Who has opened the window for air.] Hallo!
Sophy.
[Turning nervously.] What—?
Frayne.
[Looking out.] Isn't this your friend, Captain Bastling?
Quex.
Bastling?
Frayne.
At that window?
[Frayne moves away to the circular table and sniffs at a bottle of scent. Quex goes to the window.
[Looking out.] Yes. What's old Napier up to there?
Sophy.
[Guiltily.] I—I heard Captain Bastling mention that he was thinking of having his hand read by Mr. Valma some time or other.
Quex.
No! ha, ha, ha! [Leaving the window.] He doesn't see me; I won't disturb him. [To Sophy, jocularly.] A convenient arrangement—it is possible to transfer oneself from the manicurist to the palmist without the trouble of putting on one's gloves.
Sophy.
Ha, ha! y—yes.
Quex.
[Pausing on his way to the entrance.] Miss Fullgarney, may I ask if you and Mr. Valma have fixed upon the date of your marriage?
Sophy.
Oh, we sha'n't get married yet awhile—not for a year or more, I fancy.
Quex.
[Graciously.] In that case, I shall hope to have the pleasure, and the privilege, of being present at your wedding—with my wife.
[Hanging her head.] Thank you.
Quex.
Chick—
[He goes out.
Frayne.
[Turning to Sophy with dignity.] Miss Fullgarney, one thing I desire to say. It is that your behaviour this morning completely obliterates—the—
[He is cut short by another hiccup and, with a bow, withdraws. Pollitt appears at the window. Sophy goes to the entrance, and watches the departure of Quex and Frayne. Pollitt enters the room. The door-gong sounds.
Pollitt.
Sophy.
Sophy.
[Turning.] Oh! Valma, dear?
Pollitt.
[With a heavy brow.] Captain Bastling is waiting at my place, for Miss Eden.
Sophy.
[Subdued.] Is he?
Pollitt.
Dearest, during my brief but, I pride myself, honourable association with palmistry, this is the first time my rooms have been used for this sort of game.
This sort of game?
Pollitt.
Other Professors have stooped to it, but I—oh, no, it is playing palmistry a little bit too low down.
Sophy.
[Unhappily.] Surely it's quite harmless, love—a couple of young people meeting to say good-bye.
Pollitt.
From what you've told me, I greatly doubt that it will be good-bye.
Sophy.
D—d—do you?
Pollitt.
[Hotly.] Anyhow I resent your being the go-between of this gallant captain and a girl betrothed to another man—you who are naturally such a thorough lady!
Sophy.
Oh—oh, Valma—!
[She drops her head upon his shoulder and whimpers.
Pollitt.
Dearest, what have I said?
Sophy.
Valma, I've made up my mind. I intend to do exactly what you wish, in the future, in everything. I'm going to give up squatting down here manicuring gentlemen—
Pollitt.
Sophy!
Sophy.
And shall simply sail about these rooms, overlooking my girls in the plainest of silks. And never again will I interfere in an underhand way in other people's affairs on any account whatever. [Putting her arms round his neck.] Yes, you shall find me a lady—a lady—
Pollitt.
[Tenderly.] Ah—! [The door-gong sounds. She raises her head and dries her eyes hurriedly.] Is that Miss Eden?
[He crosses to the window as she goes to the entrance. Miss Limbird appears.
Miss Limbird.
[To Sophy.] Here's Miss Eden.
Sophy.
[With a nod.] Give me half a minute with her; then I'm at liberty. [Miss Limbird disappears. Sophy comes to Pollitt.] I'll send Muriel across directly.
[He departs. Miss Limbird returns and, holding the portière aside, admits Muriel. Muriel is wearing a veil. Miss Limbird withdraws. Sophy meets Muriel; they kiss each other undemonstratively.
[Constrainedly.] Well, darling?
Muriel.
[In the same way.] Well, Sophy?
Sophy.
You're here then?
Muriel.
As you see.
Sophy.
Any difficulty?
Muriel.
[In a hard voice.] No. The Duchess and Mrs. Jack were coming to town shopping, and Lady Owbridge proposed that she and I should tack ourselves on to them.
Sophy.
How have you got rid of 'em?
Muriel.
Spoken the truth, for once—my head really does throb terribly. They think I've run in here to sit quietly with you while they—[Suddenly.] Oh, be quick, Sophy!
Sophy.
Quick, dear?
Muriel.
Why don't you tell me?
Tell you—?
Muriel.
About last night—this woman—
Sophy.
Her Grace?
Muriel.
Yes, yes.
Sophy.
Oh, why, I haven't anything to tell, darling.
Muriel.
Haven't anything to—?
Sophy.
You see, I couldn't help remembering what you'd called me—mean, and despicable, and all the rest of it; and the feeling came over me that you were right, that I had been sneaky. And so, after I'd attended to her Grace, I—I went straight to bed.
Muriel.
[Sitting.] Oh, yes. Then you didn't attempt to—to watch?
Sophy.
No.
Muriel.
[Faintly.] Oh!
Sophy.
Aren't you glad?
Glad!
Sophy.
Why, you were certain that the word or two I'd overheard meant nothing wrong.
Muriel.
I said so.
Sophy.
Said so!
Muriel.
[Turning to her with clenched hands.] Yes, but at the same time you put the dreadful idea into my head, Sophy, and I've not been able to dismiss it for one moment since.
Sophy.
[Under her breath.] Oh!
[Sitting.
Muriel.
[Lifting her veil.] There! you can see what I've been going through.
Sophy.
[Looking at her.] I'm so sorry.
Muriel.
[Looking at Sophy.] You look rather washed out too. Haven't you slept, either?
Sophy.
[Turning her head away.] Not over well. [Falteringly.] Then, after all, it would have been better if I had spied on her?
Muriel.
Anything—even that—would have been preferable to this uncertainty.
Sophy.
[To herself, her jaw falling.] Oh—!
Muriel.
[Looking towards the window.] Has he arrived?
Sophy.
Yes.
[Muriel rises, then Sophy.
Muriel.
[Producing, from her pocket, a jeweller's case and showing it to Sophy.] Do you like this? I've just bought it, over the way, at Gressier's.
Sophy.
For Captain Bastling?
Muriel.
[With a nod, opening the box.] A solitaire shirt-stud.
[She retains a neatly-folded piece of paper which is enclosed in the box and hands the box to Sophy.
Sophy.
Beautiful. [Glancing at the piece of paper in Muriel's hand.] What's that?
[Unfolding the paper carefully.] This goes with it.
[She holds the paper before Sophy.
Sophy.
[Reading.] "To Napier—"
Muriel.
[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?
Sophy.
You've been crying over it.
Muriel.
Yes.
"I only—" I can't read it.
Muriel.
[Through her tears.]