"That's right," said Miss Bailey, smiling. "Come along then, and I will enroll you, Miss——"
"Pearl," murmured Jenny, feeling as if her name had somehow slipped down and escaped sideways through her neck. Then with an effort clearing her throat, she added, "Jenny Pearl," blushing furiously at the confession of identity.
"Your address?"
"Better say 17 Hagworth Street, Islington. Only I'm not living there just now. Now I'm living 43 Stacpole Terrace, Camden Town."
"Have you a profession?"
"I'm on the stage."
"What a splendid profession, too—for a woman. Don't you think so?"
Jenny stared at this commendation of a state of life she had always imagined was distasteful to people like Miss Bailey.
"I don't know much about splendid, but I suppose it's all right," she agreed at last.
"Indeed it is. Are you at the Orient also?"