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The removal of his companion's hat, besides provoking this reflection, gave him his first full sight of her face; and this was so favourable that the name she now pronounced fell on him with a quite disproportionate shock of dismay. "Oh, Mrs. Murrett's was it THERE?"
Murrett's world, while increasing Sophy's tenderness for the Farlows, had left her with few illusions as to their power of advancing her fortunes; and she did not conceal from Darrow that her theatrical projects were of the vaguest. They hung mainly on the problematical good-will of an ancient comedienne, with whom Mrs.
"I've told her exactly nothing," he replied. "And what exactly do you mean by 'nothing'? You and she were talking about me when I came into her sitting-room yesterday." Darrow felt his blood rise at the thrust. "I've told her, simply, that I'd seen you once or twice at Mrs. Murrett's." "And not that you've ever seen me since?" "And not that I've ever seen you since..."
"I'm afraid I can give you nothing more specific than my general vague impression that she seems very plucky and extremely nice." "You don't, at any rate, know anything specific to the contrary?" "To the contrary? How should I? I'm not conscious of ever having heard any one say two words about her. I only infer that she must have pluck and character to have stuck it out so long at Mrs. Murrett's."
Only I wonder a little at your having so completely given up any idea of a different future." She waited for a moment before answering: "I suppose I'm less restless than I used to be." "It's certainly natural that you should be less restless here than at Mrs. Murrett's; yet somehow I don't seem to see you permanently given up to forming the young."
It was then after an interval of repose with compassionate but impecunious American friends in Paris that Miss Viner had been drawn into the turbid current of Mrs. Murrett's career. The impecunious compatriots had found Mrs. Murrett was a woman of great intellectual eminence, and the house at Chelsea "the last of the salons" Darrow knew what she meant?
The girl had stuff in her he saw it; and she seemed to catch the perception in his eyes. "That's the kind of education I got at Mrs. Murrett's and I never had any other," she said with a shrug. "Good Lord were you there so long?" "Five years. I stuck it out longer than any of the others." She spoke as though it were something to be proud of. "Well, thank God you're out of it now!"
Murrett's secretary, and that the people who employed her before were called Hoke? For, as far as Owen and I can make out, these are the gravest charges against her." "Still, one can understand that the match is not what Madame de Chantelle had dreamed of." "Oh, perfectly if that's all you mean." The lodge was in sight, and she hastened her step.
It was always for something else: the music, or the cook when there was a good one or the other people; generally ONE of the other people." "I see." She was amusing, and that, in his present mood, was more to his purpose than the exact shade of her taste. It was odd, too, to discover suddenly that the blurred tapestry of Mrs. Murrett's background had all the while been alive and full of eyes.
"Oh, it's fearful! I don't know what on earth to say. I wouldn't for the world have them know how beastly Mrs. Murrett's been." Darrow did not think it necessary to answer. It was no business of his, after all. He lit a cigar and leaned back in his seat, letting his eyes take their fill of indolent pleasure.
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