"All right," said Angelica dubiously.
"Tell me frankly if there’s the least thing. I must be very nice to-day. We’re giving a lunch to a young English woman, a tennis champion, and I’m on the reception committee. Do I really look nice?"
"Yes," said Angelica, in a still more doubtful tone.
"You don’t think so!" cried Mrs. Russell. "I can see that! But, my dear, I don’t suppose a woman of my age ever can look very nice."
However, the glance she gave to her reflection in the mirror was quite a complacent one. She began covering her face with pink powder, while she talked; and grimacing as she carefully avoided the blackened eyebrows.
"How did you get on with Mrs. Geraldine?" she asked.
"All right; she’s not so bad," said Angelica. "Only sort of dopey."
"‘Dopey’? What’s that?"
Angelica flushed.
"Oh, like people that take dope—morphine and opium and all that."