The impression the latter first got of her was a pathetic one. She never forgot it. Mrs. Lambert was sitting up in bed. The small oval of her face was too pale for health, and her dark hair accentuated her look of fragility. On the dressing-table lay a rich copper-colored transformation. "I hope you don’t mind seeing me in bed," she said. "I hate keeping people waiting. It’s so selfish. In my time I’ve sat on dress-baskets outside dressing-room doors waiting for hours till some selfish wretch took it into his head to see me, although he’d made an appointment and knew perfectly well I was there. I vowed I’d never treat any one in the same way. Sit down somewhere and tell me about yourself. What have you done?" "Very little," Alexandra confessed. "I’m almost an amateur." Mrs. Lambert made a wry face. "Not a moneyed one, I hope?" "I’ve got forty pounds a year." "Officer’s daughter’s pension?" "Yes." Alexandra looked surprised. "How did you know?" "I’m one myself. Officer’s daughters can’t do much when they’re left stranded. They teach if they’re ugly and sensible enough, and they go on the stage if they’re sufficiently pretty and foolish. How long have you been at it?" "Three months." "And how long in an engagement?" "I rehearsed for three weeks at the Pall Mall in the chorus.... I wasn’t wanted." "I don’t wonder. I can’t quite see a girl like you in the Pall Mall chorus. You must have had rather an unpleasant time of it there. Were you worried by men? Before I married I used to wear a wedding ring. In my innocence, I thought it would be something of a protection, but it had quite a contrary effect." She gave Alexandra a sympathetic look. "Would you really like to come on tour with me?" "Mr. Stannard didn’t say what you required," said Alexandra. "Perhaps you won’t think I’m experienced enough." "Well, I want some one to thread ribbons through my underclothes, to sleep in my room when I see bogies, and play a small part—a servant flicking chairs. I can’t promise that it will increase your theatrical reputation, but perhaps when you leave me, some minor manager might be induced to give you a decent part on the strength of your having been in Mrs. Hugh Lambert’s company. You’ll go about with me. I’ll pay all hotel expenses and give you thirty shillings a week. If you’re hard up for clothes, say so. I’ve always got a lot more than I want, and as I send them to the Theatrical Ladies’ Guild you needn’t feel under any obligation about taking them. I hope you’ll decide to come. I should like you to. You won’t be overworked and I’ll treat you decently. I’m not a cat." "I’d love to come if you’ll have me."