“Yes, I think I know,” said Lady Wyndover. “And I think we’d better go down to Madame Cerise at once. We might go this afternoon; that is, if you are not tired. Perhaps you’d like to go and lie down for a little while.”
Esmeralda looked at her with open-eyed surprise.
“Tired? Why should I be tired? I haven’t done anything except ride in a cab, and I never lie down till I go to bed. Is it far, this place? How many miles?”
“Miles!” said Lady Wyndover, faintly. “It’s quite close, my dear child.”
“All right,” said Esmeralda, “I’m quite ready. But what shall we do with these things?”
“We—we might give them to Barker,” said Lady Wyndover, who knew full well that that remarkably well-dressed young woman would rather die than wear them.
“All right,” said Esmeralda, cheerfully. “She seems a very nice girl, though she’s rather proud, isn’t she? She wouldn’t shake hands with me just now.”
Lady Wyndover almost groaned.
“It’s not usual—in England—to shake hands with one’s servants, dear,” she said. “But you’ll learn all that in time, and—other things. Go and put your things on, and we’ll go down to Madame Cerise’s.”