Miss Pearl displayed more agitation, and--a rare thing for so slow-thinking a woman--interrupted somewhat sharply: "I admit that I did, but I do not wish it to be known." "For what reason, Miss Pearl?" asked Ralph, pressing his advantage mercilessly. "You can guess the reason, Mr. Shawe," she replied, with heavy indignation. "I know what evil minds people have. Sir Joseph is an admirer of mine--quite in a platonic way, you understand." "Of course," murmured the barrister. "I have heard of your unblemished reputation, Miss Pearl." "I should think it was unblemished," said the dancer, speaking faster than usual. "My dear mother, who was a consistent Baptist, always warned me when I left home to keep myself unspotted from the world. Circumstances have made me a music-hall dancer, but I have always conducted myself discreetly, and I always shall do so. Not by way of advertisement, Mr. Shawe, but because the principles, instilled by my dear mother, will not permit me to behave in any other way." "It does you credit, Miss Pearl," murmured Ralph, feeling called upon to say something polite. Rosy Pearl looked at him like an offended goddess. "I do not know whether you mean to be sarcastic, Mr. Shawe, but let me tell you that sarcasm is out of place. Are you one of those men who do not believe that a woman can be virtuous in the midst of temptation?" "Not at all, Miss Pearl. There are good women on the stage, and often bad women in Church circles. It is a question of temperament." "It is a question of doing what is right, Mr. Shawe," said the goddess, with a disdainful look. "I am a dancer, it is true, but no one can say a word against me." "I don't think anyone has said a word," Ralph ventured to remark. "If they did," said Miss Pearl, sharply, "I would bring a libel action against them without delay. My solicitors have instructions to take notice of any flippant remark made about me, and to deal with it as it deserves." "With such precautions you must be, like Cæsar's wife, above suspicion." "I do not know Mrs. Cæsar," said Rosy Pearl, coldly, and betrayed her lack of educational knowledge in the remark. "I attend to my own business and to nothing else. I daresay you wonder, Mr. Shawe, why, with these sentiments, I am on the music-hall stage?" "Well," Ralph admitted, more and more puzzled by this simplicity, but unable to tell if it were real or feigned, "I must say that I do wonder." "It's because I am stupid." "Stupid?" Shawe stared. He had never heard a woman admit as much before. "Yes, I am," said Miss Pearl, in her rich, slow voice, and looking more than ever like a sacred white cow. "My parents live in a small Essex village, and have a large family. My father is a carpenter, and my mother, as I told you, a consistent Baptist. Being poor, we--the children, that is--have to work, and when I was eighteen I got a housemaid's place in London. But I could not do the work."