"Yes, I noticed that--and it was because your advertisement was unusual that I applied for the post." She rather wondered if she ought to have put in any "Ladyships"; she remembered Hanson, Lord Algy's valet, was very prodigal of such marks of respect--that is what had deterred her. Liv and Dev often used them, too--to new and prosperously connected clients--but she did not wish to be subservient more than was necessary. She would watch and listen--as she had watched about the oysters. "Can you read aloud?" Lady Garribardine was fixing her with her flashing brown eyes, which contrasted so unfavourably with the bronze-gold wig she wore so bravely. "I have never tried. If I did it wrong the first time and you corrected me, I expect I wouldn't do it twice." "That is something--and your voice is refined--you did not acquire that at the--er--pork butcher's?" "No, I acquired it by listening to members of the upper classes who came to borrow money--I had a cockney twang like my sisters, I daresay, in the beginning." "That shows you can learn things." "Yes, it is only stupid people who can't." "You are not stupid, then?" "No, but Mr. Livingston or Mr. Devereux can tell you; either will speak for me." Lady Garribardine was amused; she digressed a little from her cross-examination. "You found Jews agreeable to work with?" "Very. You know where you are with them. They do not pretend, and they are very generous." "In-deed!" "Yes--people have a preconceived notion of Jews, I find--quite faulty as a rule--they know what to pay for--they are far less fools than other races. I respect them." "That is most interesting." Katherine was silent again. "Why did you leave them?"--after a pause in which Lady Garribardine was pitilessly scrutinising her possible secretary. "Because I had learned all that I could there, and I wanted a new vista----" "And you think you would find it with me?" "With any lady in your world--you can learn things wherever you go, if you wish to." "Very true. And how about French--you speak that?" Katherine Bush reddened a little. A memory came to her of the profound shock that the French of Paris had been to her ear. "I can write it quite correctly--but I have discovered that my pronunciation is ridiculous." She confessed it quite frankly. "How did that happen?" "I taught it to myself--mostly--and then I heard it spoken--and I knew mine would sound wrong." "Do you think you could overcome that?" "Yes, if I were in France long enough." "Have you travelled?" "No--not really. I have been to Paris for a holiday once--I have only learnt about places." "And English literature?" "It is the thing I care most for--I have read a great many books. I read usually until about one in the morning." "Have you a good temper? You are not uppish, eh?"