She was delighted
with the result. Miss Schley had already added several very desirable
people to the Wolfstein visiting-list. In return "Henry" had "put her on
to" one or two very good things in the City. Everything would be most
satisfactory if only Lady Holme were not tiresome about the Cadogan
Square door.
"She hates you, Pimpernel," said Mrs. Wolfstein to her friend.
"Why?" drawled Miss Schley.
"You know why perfectly well. You reproduce her looks. I'm perfectly
certain she's dreading your first night. She's afraid people will begin
to think that extraordinary colourless charm she and you possess stagey.
Besides, you have certain mannerisms--you don't imitate her, Pimpernel?"
The pawnbroking expression was remarkably apparent for a moment in Mrs.
Wolfstein's eyes.
"I haven't started to yet."
"Yet?"
"Well, if she don't ask me to number thirty-eight--'tis thirty-eight?"
"Forty-two."
"Forty-two Cadogan Square, I might be tempted. I came out as a mimic, you
know, at Corsher and Byall's in Philadelphia."
Miss Schley gazed reflectively upon the brown carpet of Mrs. Wolfstein's
boudoir.
"Folks said I wasn't bad," she added meditatively.
"I think I ought to warn Viola," said Mrs. Wolfstein.
She was peculiarly intimate with people of distinction when they weren't
there. Miss Schley looked as if she had not heard. She often did when
anything of importance to her was said.
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