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Her eyes had fixed themselves on Mlle. Mauret. "Have you had a talk with her yet?" "I haven't had a talk and I yield my claim to you," said Gregory. "Are you very eager to meet the lady?" "Who wouldn't be, my dear Gregory! What a wonderful face! What thought and suffering! Oh, it has been the most extraordinary of stories. You don't know? Well, I will tell you about her some time.
Gregory had stood for an appreciable moment at the door surveying the scene, before either Karen or her guardian saw him, and it was then the latter who did the honours of the occasion, naming him to the bundled lady, who was an English poetess, and to Mlle. Suzanne Mauret, the French actress.
"Did you not see his portrait of Susanne Mauret the great French actress? It has been exhibited through all the world." "Of course I have. Belot of course. The impressionist painter. It looked to me, I confess, awfully queer; but I could see that it was very clever." "Impressionist? No; Belot would not rank himself among the impressionists.
And with what did he so unpleasantly associate the name of the French actress? The link clicked suddenly. La Gaine d'Or, in its veiling French, was about to be produced in London, and it was Mlle. Mauret who had created the heroine's role in Paris. He drank his tea, standing in silence by Karen's side, and avoiding all encounter with Herr Lippheim's genial eyes.
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