“He disapproves!” remarked the lady. “He disapproves utterly—of me, and my sister—which last is unfair, because he hasn’t seen her!” I opened my mouth, but she forestalled me. “Say no more! Nobody loves me! I shall go into the garden and eat worms! Boohoo! I am crushed!” She buried herself behind a large comic French paper. In a minute or two I saw her eyes stealthily peeping at me over the top. In spite of myself I could not help smiling, and in a minute she had tossed the paper aside, and had burst into a merry peal of laughter. “I knew you weren’t such a mutt as you looked,” she cried. Her laughter was so infectious that I could not help joining in, though I hardly cared for the word “mutt.” The girl was certainly all that I most disliked, but that was no reason why I should make myself ridiculous by my attitude. I prepared to unbend. After all, she was decidedly pretty.… “There! Now we’re friends!” declared the minx. “Say you’re sorry about my sister—” “I am desolated!” “That’s a good boy!” “Let me finish. I was going to add that, although I am desolated, I can manage to put up with her absence very well.” I made a little bow. But this most unaccountable of damsels frowned and shook her head. “Cut it out. I prefer the ‘dignified disapproval’ stunt. Oh, your face! ‘Not one of us,’ it said. And you were right there—though, mind you, it’s pretty hard to tell nowadays. It’s not every one who can distinguish between a demi and a duchess. There now, I believe I’ve shocked you again! You’ve been dug out of the backwoods, you have. Not that I mind that. We could do with a few more of your sort. I just hate a fellow who gets fresh. It makes me mad.” She shook her head vigorously. “What are you like when you’re mad?” I inquired with a smile. “A regular little devil! Don’t care what I say, or what I do, either! I nearly did a chap in once. Yes, really. He’d have deserved it too. Italian blood I’ve got. I shall get into trouble one of these days.” “Well,” I begged, “don’t get mad with me.” “I shan’t. I like you—did the first moment I set eyes on you. But you looked so disapproving that I never thought we should make friends.” “Well, we have. Tell me something about yourself.” “I’m an actress. No—not the kind you’re thinking of, lunching at the Savoy covered with jewellery, and with their photograph in every paper saying how much they love Madame So and So’s face cream. I’ve been on the boards since I was a kid of six—tumbling.” “I beg your pardon,” I said puzzled. “Haven’t you seen child acrobats?” “Oh, I understand.” “I’m American born, but I’ve spent most of my life in England. We got a new show now—” “We?” “My sister and I. Sort of song and dance, and a bit of patter, and a dash of the old business thrown in. It’s quite a new idea, and it hits them every time. There’s to be money in it—”