"Look here, Flora, you're a very charming woman. I have a great admiration for you. What is more, I believe you to be a thoroughly good——" he hesitated again; was he going to say 'woman,' 'actress?'—he decided on 'sort.'
"Oh!"
"Now I'll reveal to you the dream of my life, which I wouldn't tell to anybody else."
"I wonder if I can guess it?" she said, wishing he would hurry up. Lady Charles was coming at half-past five to get the address of that fur place Flora knew of, where you got things practically for nothing—and they were worth it, too.
"I know I'm not so very young," continued the young man.
"Why, you're only about thirty-four, aren't you? I call that young."
"Do you—do you really? Now I was afraid I was getting rather too old to begin, as it were, a fresh life. Well now"—he came a little nearer and touched her hand, which lay on the table; it was a pretty hand, thin and bony, with pink polished nails and a garnet ring—"will you do it for me? will you help me? will you not think me foolish—too daring—too sanguine?..."
"What?"
"Yes. I see you've guessed. Yes. I want to go on the stage."