"I hope madam doesn’t mind." "Let me see," Vio began to calculate. "It’s about four or five weeks since Mrs. Mountney sent you to me." "And Mrs. Averill had sent me to her. You see, madam, I get a commission on every pair, and so—" "And so it was a good opportunity to—" "To improve myself. Yes, madam." Vio’s brows came together in a frown. "To ... what? I don’t understand you." "You see, madam, it’s this way. I’ve only taken this corset job to—to get an insight. I’m not really a saleswoman at all. I’m an adventuress." It was the only moment at which I ever saw Vio nonplussed. "Oh, you are!" was all she could find to say. "Well, not exactly yet; but I’m going to be. Only, if you’re an adventuress you’ve got to be a swell adventuress. There’s only one kind, and it’s that. But you see, madam, I’ve never had enough to do with ladies to be the real thing; and so when Clotilde put me on to this corset stunt, I thought it ’d give me a chance to study them." "To study—ladies?" "Yes, madam. An adventuress has got to be that much of a lady that she can put it over on a duchess or she might just as well stay out of the business. Any boob in the movie line would tell you that." "You interest me," Vio said, almost beneath her breath. "I generally interest people, madam, when I get a-going. Colonel Stroud says that if I was to go in for—" "That’s not what I want to hear. Tell me if—if your studies have taught you what you wanted to know." Having completed her package, Lydia stood in the attitude of a neat French maid in a play. "It’s the model, madam. That’s where the trouble is. An adventuress has got to be ... well, just so. Did madam ever see Agnes Dunham as the Russian Countess in ’The Scarlet Sin’? Well, she’s it, only she’s too old. She must be thirty-five if she’s a day. I don’t know how many times I didn’t go see her; but I couldn’t be that old, and then she talked with a French accent, so that settled it. Colonel Stroud said that if I was ever going to do the thing there was only one woman in the world—" "He took a professional interest in you, then?" "Oh, my, yes; professional and every other way. Still does. Awful kind he can be when he likes; but when he doesn’t like! My!" I was sorry for Vio. With bloodless lips and strained eyes she sat grasping the arms of her chair in the effort to keep her self-mastery. Had I loved her less I could have been glad of this minute, because it was giving me what might be called my revenge. But I loved her too much. It was clear to me, too, that I loved her more than I ever did. My return had been a shock to her, and she had made a strenuous effort to be game. She _was_ game. She had not fallen short of the most sporting standard, except in matters over which she had no control. "Stroud is always like that," I endeavored to smile, "giving every one a helping hand. He mayn’t be the wisest old dog in the world, but no one can say that he isn’t kind and faithful."