The Gay Lord Quex: A Comedy in Four Acts

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Page 117 - Oh, I've heard of this! this is a little— h'm !— isn't it? DUCHESS. I read those things for the sake of their exquisitely polished style; the subjects escape me. MRS. EDEN. [Seating herself by the writing-table and dipping into "Madame Plon."] Ah, yes, the style — the style. [Absorbed.] We haven't much real literary style in England, have we? [SoPHY returns, carrying a pink tea-gown trimmed with green ribbons, and a richly embroidered Mandarin's robe.] SOPHY. Will your Grace put on one of these?...
Page 170 - 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...
Page 1 - Nearer, there is another french-window, opening on to an expanse of "leads" and showing the exterior of the wall of the further room abovementioned. From the right, above the middle window, runs an ornamental partition, about nine feet in height, with panels of opaque glass. This partition extends more than half-way across the room, then runs forward for some distance, turns off at a sharp angle, and terminates between the arched opening and the window on the left. That part of the partition running...
Page 223 - LADY OWBRIDGE. [To MURIEL, in a low voice."] Muriel, you are right. In this life, if you have anything to pardon, pardon quickly. Slow forgiveness is little better than no forgiveness. MRS. EDEN. [Coming to QUEX.] Congratulate you. QUEX. Thanks. [LADY OWBRIDGE moves away, joining the DUCHESS, as MRS. EDEN returns to MURIEL.] MRS. EDEN. [Kissing MURIEL.] You sensible girl! [FRAYNE comes to QUEX.] FRAYNE. [To QUEX, mournfully.} Old chap, this is shockingly sudden. QUEX. Ha, ha! FRAYNE. However, we...
Page 141 - Midnight. [Leaning upon a chair] At any rate, you had better go now. QUEX [turning to her]. I beg your pardon ; I regret having lost control of myself. DUCHESS [miserably]. It has been a wretchedly disappointing meeting. QUEX [heavily]. Let us see each other in the morning. [She nods] Be walking in the grounds by nine. DUCHESS. Yes. [Rallying] After all, Harry, there may be nothing behind this woman's behaviour. It may have been only the vulgarest curiosity on her part. QUEX [incredulously]. Ha !...
Page 76 - I'm afraid I have no further suggestion to offer. [There is another pause; then her face lights up, and she comes down to him swiftly.] SOPHY. [Close to him.] Show me your nails, my lord QUEX. [Lowering his paper.] My nails? SOPHY. [Taking his hand and examining it.] Excuse me. Oh, my lord, for shame! QUEX. You take exception to them? SOPHY. This is hacking, not cutting. You ought never to be allowed within a mile of a pair of scissors. QUEX. [Looking at his other hand.] Oh, come! they're hardly...
Page 42 - Mrs. ? QUEX. [Rather irritably.] I say, all of them. FRAYNE. No trouble with Lady ? QUEX. No, no, no, no. FRAYNE. What about the little Duchess? [QuEX pauses in his examination of a nail-clipper.] Eh? QUEX. [Turning to him, slightly embarrassed.] Odd that you should mention her. FRAYNE. Why? QUEX. She's staying at Fauncey Court also. FRAYNE. The Duchess! QUEX. She proposed herself for a visit. I dared not raise any objection, for her reputation's sake; the ladies would have suspected at once. You're...
Page 147 - SOPHY [defiantly]. Yes ; you know I have. QUEX. Ah. And I should like to know a little more, while we are upon the delicate subject of spying. When I found you behind the cypress-hedge this evening before dinner SOPHY. Well? QUEX. You had just at that moment returned to the Italian garden, you said. SOPHY. Yes, so I said. QUEX. As a matter of fact, you had been there some time, I presume? SOPHY. A minute or two. QUEX. Heard anything? SOPHY [laughing maliciously]. Ha, ha, ha! I heard her Grace say,...
Page 122 - ... wonder whether you'd lend it to me? DUCHESS. Gladly. MRS. EDEN. As you say, there is something about these French writers * DUCHESS. Style. MRS. EDEN. That's it — style. [Opening the door] Ah ! lights out. DUCHESS. Can you see? MRS. EDEN [going out]. There's just a glimmer [She disappears] DUCHESS.
Page 101 - ... by the late Lord Owbridge's father a hundred years ago. FRAYNE. [Seeing SOPHY.] Why, isn't that the young manicure lady? MRS. EDEN. Yes. All these pieces of sculpture are genuine old Italian. This quaint little fountain came from the Villa Marchotti FRAYNE. [Edging toward SOPHY.] Alluring. MRS. EDEN. This is the fountain. FRAYNE. [Returning to her.] Quaint old fountain. SOPHY. [To MURIEL, across the hedge in a whisper.] Darling! MRS. EDEN. [Looking into the distance.] I think I see the dear Duchess....

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