"Now I am 'infinitely good,' which is really more than human if you think it out," he laughed. "See how you run to extremes with nerves and things. No, you are not to care at all, Winnie. You have a more or less good voice. You know more music than is good for you, and sooner or later, since you insist on it, you will get what you want. Where is the hurry?" "You don't or won't understand," said Winifred. "I know what I want, and must get some work without delay." "Well, then, since it upsets you, you shall. I am not much of an authority about professional matters myself, but I know a lady who understands these things, and I'll speak to her." "Who is this lady?" asked Winifred. "Mrs. Ronald Tower." "Young--nice-looking?" asked Winifred, looking down at the crochet work in her lap. She was so taken up with the purely feminine aspect of affairs that she gave slight heed to a remarkable coincidence. "Er--so-so," said Carshaw with a smile borne of memories, which Winifred's downcast eyes just noticed under their raised lids. "What is she like?" she went on. "Let me see! How shall I describe her? Well, you know Gainsborough's picture of the Duchess of Devonshire? She's like that, full-busted, with preposterous hats, dashing--rather a beauty!" "Indeed!" said Winifred coldly. "She must be awfully attractive. A _very_ old friend?" "Oh, rather! I knew her when I was eighteen, and she was _elancee_ then." "What does _elancee_ mean?" "On the loose." "What does _that_ mean?" "Well--a bit free and easy, doesn't it? Something of that sort. Smart set, you know." "I see. Do _you_, then, belong to the smart set?" "I? No. I dislike it rather. But one rubs with all sorts in the grinding of the mill." "And this Mrs. Ronald Tower, whom you knew at eighteen, how old was she then?" "About twenty-two or so." "And she was--gay then?" "As far as ever society would let her." "How--did you know?" "I--well, weren't we almost boy and girl together?" "I wonder you can give yourself the pains to come to spend your precious minutes with me when that sort of woman is within--" "What, not jealous?" he cried joyously. "And of that _passee_ creature? Why, she isn't worthy to stoop and tie the latchets of your shoes, as the Scripture saith!" "Still, I'd rather not be indebted to that lady for anything," said Winifred. "But why not? Don't be excessive, little one. There is no reason, you know." "How does she come to know about singing and theatrical people?" "I don't know that she does. I only assume it. A woman of the world, cutting a great dash, yet hard up--that kind knows all sorts and conditions of men. I am sure she could help you, and I'll have a try." "But is she the wife of the Ronald Tower who was dragged by the lasso into the river?" "The same."