"But what is the good of it?" she said. "I don’t believe there is any society worthy of the name to-day. Money seems to be everything. Your poor aristocrat sneers at the monied people. But ain’t they just as ostentatious themselves! Don’t they rob their creditors and neglect their bills to appear like other people? It seems such a dreadfully snobbish thing to do." The fine eyes were looking round contemptuously, the breastplate of rubies heaved slowly. The words sounded strange from one so superbly attired, and Mrs. Benstein laughed as she caught Angela’s smile. "You are thinking that I am no better than the rest," she went on. "Well, perhaps not. But, then, my plumes are borrowed ones. You see my husband is what is called a money-lender. There are lots of great ladies here to-night who come to him for assistance, they bring their jewels and he lends them money. I am wearing nearly all borrowed plumes to-night." Angela gave a little gasp at the audacity of the confession. "Oh, of course it is wrong," Mrs. Benstein proceeded. "It’s like a laundress who keeps back a silk blouse from somebody else’s washing to wear on a Sunday. I’ve done that myself." Angela listened in dazed fascination. Such a confession from one so stately and beautiful was amazing. "You have learnt the art of jesting with a perfectly serious face," she suggested. "My dear, I am telling you the exact truth. I suppose it is the impish spirit in my blood that prompts me to do such things. In the day of my early Sunday holidays things were different. But you can’t expect a high morality in a little Shoreditch second-hand clothes shop." "You will tell me that you served in one next," Angela laughed. "My dear, I did," was the reply. "Do you know, I have not the slightest idea who my parents are. All I know is that I am not a Jewess, though I was brought up as one. I used to run about the streets. I grew up somehow. And then I drifted into that shop. I educated myself pretty well, for the simple reason that I cannot forget anything. My husband took me away and married me. I would have married any one to get away from that blighting desolation. I was going mad for the want of colour and brightness in my life. And—and there you are." "Nobody could possibly tell that you have not been used to this life always," Angela said. "There have been jealous eyes round you to-night, but they found no flaw." "I had no intention of them finding a flaw," Mrs. Benstein said coolly. "I have intuition and observation. And yet, till this very night, I have never sat and chatted with a lady before. I like you, Miss Lyne, and I would do anything for you. I like your kind face and those thoughtful eyes." Angela was glad to hear it. The confession made her task all the easier.