"I'm going to do it," said Mamie Cutter. "Well then that ought to be a haul. Call it THREE fivers!" he laughed. "At seven sharp." And at last he left her alone. CHAPTER II Miss Cutter waited till she heard the house-door close; after which, in a sightless mechanical way, she moved about the room readjusting various objects he had not touched. It was as if his mere voice and accent had spoiled her form. But she was not left too long to reckon with these things, for Mrs. Medwin was promptly announced. This lady was not, more than her hostess, in the first flush of her youth; her appearance--the scattered remains of beauty manipulated by taste--resembled one of the light repasts in which the fragments of yesterday's dinner figure with a conscious ease that makes up for the want of presence. She was perhaps of an effect still too immediate to be called interesting, but she was candid, gentle and surprised--not fatiguingly surprised, only just in the right degree; and her white face--it was too white--with the fixed eyes, the somewhat touzled hair and the Louis Seize hat, might at the end of the very long neck have suggested the head of a princess carried on a pike in a revolution. She immediately took up the business that had brought her, with the air however of drawing from the omens then discernible less confidence than she had hoped. The complication lay in the fact that if it was Mamie's part to present the omens, that lady yet had so to colour them as to make her own service large. She perhaps over-coloured; for her friend gave way to momentary despair. "What you mean is then that it's simply impossible?" "Oh no," said Mamie with a qualified emphasis. "It's POSSIBLE." "But disgustingly difficult?" "As difficult as you like." "Then what can I do that I haven't done?" "You can only wait a little longer." "But that's just what I HAVE done. I've done nothing else. I'm always waiting a little longer!" Miss Cutter retained, in spite of this pathos, her grasp of the subject. "THE thing, as I've told you, is for you first to be seen." "But if people won't look at me?" "They will." "They WILL?" Mrs. Medwin was eager. "They shall," her hostess went on. "It's their only having heard--without having seen."' "But if they stare straight the other way?" Mrs. Medwin continued to object. "You can't simply go up to them and twist their heads about." "It's just what I can," said Mamie Cutter. But her charming visitor, heedless for the moment of this attenuation, had found the way to put it. "It's the old story. You can't go into the water till you swim, and you can't swim till you go into the water. I can't be spoken to till I'm seen, but I can't be seen till I'm spoken to." She met this lucidity, Miss Cutter, with but an instant's lapse. "You say I can't twist their heads about. But I HAVE twisted them." It had been quietly produced, but it gave her companion a jerk. "They say 'Yes'?" She summed it up. "All but one. SHE says 'No.'"