“He is a solicitor—and he’s still in the East, but he may come home this summer. I don’t think the marriage is a very happy one,” said Mrs. Fazackerly, looking down.
I fancy that to all of us there then came a momentary vision of crockery, propelled violently through space, after the reckless habit that report had imputed to Mrs. Fazackerly’s excitable partner.
“It would be so very kind of you, Lady Flower, to say that we may ask her to help with the show,” said Nancy, raising her pretty eyes to Claire’s face, and speaking with her habitual flattering deference. “You see, if once you gave a lead, Mrs. Harter wouldn’t feel out of things any more.”
“And,” said Captain Patch, not quite so diplomatically, “it would be such a shame to waste that beautiful voice.”
“Who is going to play your accompaniments—or do you rise to an orchestra?” I interrupted.
“I can play the accompaniments,” said Mrs. Fazackerly radiantly. “It’s all I’m good for. I have no voice and I can’t act. Which reminds me that some of the Kendals really ought to be asked to take part, oughtn’t they, after General Kendal has so very kindly provided those boots?”
“Perhaps Alfred and two of the girls might do something in the chorus without damaging it.”
“We must go and find out. And—what about Mrs. Harter?”
Claire shrugged her shoulders.
“I think it’s rather a mistake to ask her, myself. But please do exactly as you like about it. If her voice is essential, then I suppose she must be asked.”