bodying one or two primary aids, a voice and an eye, but essentially formed by work, unremitting and ferocious work. "I don't care a straw for your handsome girls," she said; "but bring me the one who is ready to drudge the tenth part of the way Rachel drudged, and I'll forgive her her beauty. Of course, notez bien, Rachel wasn't a bête: that's a gift, if you like!"
Mrs. Rooth, who was evidently very proud of the figure her daughter had made, appealed to Madame Carré, rashly and serenely, for a verdict; but fortunately this lady's voluble bonne came rattling in at the same moment with the tea-tray. The old actress busied herself in dispensing this refreshment, an hospitable attention to her English visitors, and under cover of the diversion thus obtained, while the others talked together, Sherringham said to his hostess: "Well, is there anything in her?"
"Nothing that I can see. She's loud and coarse."
"She's very much afraid; you must allow for that."
"Afraid of me, immensely, but not a bit afraid of her authors—nor of you!" added Madame Carré, smiling.
"Aren't you prejudiced by what Mr. Nash has told you?"
"Why prejudiced? He only told me she was very handsome."
"And don't you think she is?"
"Admirable. But I'm not a photographer nor a dressmaker. I can't do anything with that."
"The head is very noble," said Peter Sherringham. "And the voice, when she spoke English, had some sweet tones."
"Ah, your English—possibly! All I can say is that I
