And mental
charm doesn't age so obviously as physical--as the body does, I suppose.
Perhaps we ought to pin our faith to it. What do you think of Miss
Schley?"
Lady Cardington glanced at her with a kind of depressed curiosity.
"She pins her faith to the other thing," she said.
"Yes."
"She's pretty. Do you know she reminds me faintly of you."
Lady Holme felt acute irritation at this remark, but she only said:
"Does she?"
"Something in her colouring. I'm sure she's a man's woman, but I can't
say I found her interesting."
"Men's women seldom are interesting to us. They don't care to be," said
Lady Holme.
Suddenly she thought that possibly between Pimpernel Schley and herself
there were resemblances unconnected with colouring.
"I suppose not. But still--ah, here's Cadogan Square!"
She kissed Lady Holme lightly on the cheek.
"Fifty-eight!" Lady Holme said to herself as she went into the house.
"Just think of being fifty-eight if one has been a man's woman! Perhaps
it's better after all to be an everybody's woman. Well, but how's it
done?"
She looked quite puzzled as she came into the drawing-room, where Robin
Pierce had been waiting impatiently for twenty minutes.
"Robin," she said seriously, "I'm very unhappy."
"Not so unhappy as I have been for the last half hour," he said, taking
her hand and holding it. "What is it?"
"I'm dreadfully afraid I'm a man's woman.
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