"And I know you," went on Finetta, still in the low, husky, agitated voice. "What I have to say concerns you. You'd better not refuse!"
Lady Eleanor looked round as if seeking some means of escape, then rose, hesitated a moment, her white teeth catching her lip, and followed Finetta to the end of the long shop, the jeweler discreetly keeping out of earshot, and respectfully waiting until his customers had finished their conference. He saw that something was happening; but his well-trained face was absolutely impassive.
Lady Eleanor stood turned sideways to Finetta, her haughty lips half lowered, but her lips trembling. If anyone that morning had told her that Finetta of the Diadem would dare to address her, and that she would consent to listen to her for one single moment, she would have laughed the idea to scorn. And yet here she was actually waiting for what the woman had to say.
Finetta's bosom was heaving with the effort at self-control. She could not help admiring Lady Eleanor's self-possession, while she hated her; and she tried to imitate her.
"You heard what the man said," she said at last, in a low, shaken voice.
Lady Eleanor's haughty lids moved slightly in assent.
"Well!" said Finetta, with a kind of gasp, "it's true!"
Lady Eleanor made the faintest movement with her hand. It seemed to say:
"If it is, what is it to do with me—or you?" and Finetta understood her.
A hot flush passed over her handsome face.