reference to this obvious fact in the history of a young lady hitherto well provided for.
"You are,—pardon me," said Klesmer, again pausing near the piano—"in coming to a conclusion on such a matter as this, everything must be taken into consideration,—you are perhaps twenty?"
"I am twenty-one," said Gwendolen, a slight fear rising in her. "Do you think I am too old?"
Klesmer pouted his under lip and shook his long fingers upward in a manner totally enigmatic.
"Many persons begin later than others," said Gwendolen, betrayed by her habitual consciousness of having valuable information to bestow.
Klesmer took no notice, but said with more studied gentleness than ever, "You have probably not thought of an artistic career until now: you did not entertain the notion, the longing—what shall I say?—you did not wish yourself an actress, or anything of that sort, till the present trouble?"
"Not exactly; but I was fond of acting. I have acted; you saw me, if you remember—you saw me here in charades, and as Hermione," said Gwendolen, really fearing that Klesmer had forgotten.
