"Well, will you come?"
Sophy was torn. The stage was very attractive, and the love she had for Julia Robins held her as though by a cord. But was the stage a poor thing? Was that mysterious "real thing" better? Though even of that this strange woman spoke scornfully. Already there must have been some underground channel of understanding between them; for Sophy knew that Lady Meg was more than interested in her—that she was actually excited about her; and Lady Meg, in her turn, knew that she played a good card when she dangled before Sophy's eyes the Queen of England and the Emperor of the French—though even then came that saving "Lord help him!" to damp an over-ardent expectation.
"Let me speak to Julia," said Sophy. Lady Meg nodded; the girls linked arms and walked apart. Pindar came to Lady Meg's elbow.
"Another whim!" said he, in a low voice. Pikes was looking round the view with a kind of vacant contentment.
"Yes," she said. His lips moved. "I know what you said. You said: 'You old fool!' Pindar."
"Never, on my life, my lady!" They seemed more friends now than patroness and client. Few saw them thus, but Pindar told Dunstanbury, and the old gentleman was no liar.
"Give me one more!" she whispered, plainly excited. "That mark must mean something. It may open a way."
"For her?" he asked, smiling.
"It must for her. It may for me."
"A way where?"