"Yes, I do. Just here. I think of consulting a specialist on the
matter."
"_My dear!_"
Beatrix got up, walked across the wide room and stood in front of the
pier-glass. Through her thin, clinging nightgown she could see the
lines of her slim, lithe, deliciously young form. For a moment she
stood in frank and open admiration of it. She had a keenly appreciative
eye for beautiful things. Then she walked about the room, like a young
Diana, her heels rapping as she went. "It wasn't so amusing as I hoped
it might be," she added. "Scratch a gentleman and you find the man.
Break the veneer of a cad and you discover the beast. D'you think that
Pond's Extract is strong enough to cleanse the spot?"
"He dared to kiss _you!_---- I can hardly believe it." Mrs. Keene
looked like a pricked balloon. "Surely you'll never go near him again
now."
"Only if I can get a policeman to go with me, or an inspector of
nuisances. Brownie, dear, my occasional evenings with art and old armor
are over. I must find some other excuse for breaking all the rules that
hedge round the life of an ex-debutante."
"Thank Heaven!" said Mrs. Keene. "I've only seen that man once and he
reminded me of a person who used to go down the area of my London house
and try and persuade the maids to buy imitation jewelry on the
instalment plan."
Beatrix burst into a ripple of laughter. "Well done, Brownie. That's
perfect,--perfect." But again her hand went up to her shoulder.
And then the hen-like lady gathered her scattered wits together and came
up to her own little surprise. "It's quite time that episode is at an
end, my dear," she said. "Only about ten minutes after you drove away
last night,--I was having a sandwich and a glass of port wine before
going to my room,--your Aunt Honoria bore down upon me. May I say that
without giving offense?"