Audrey laughed. "No mere man can understand who Madame Coralie is, or what she is. But if you will walk with me to Walpole Lane I can show you her shop--not that the shop will explain."
"What kind of goods does she sell?" asked the young barrister, lazily, and admiring the profile of his beloved.
"She sells figures and complexions and false hair and lip-salve, and--"
"Stop! Stop! You surely don't want any of those beastly things?"
"Not yet," said Audrey, significantly; "but I may some day. It is mamma who wants them just now. She has no figure, poor dear, and her complexion is like a frog's skin. I am going to call and ask how she passed the night, and I take you because we have no secrets from one another."
"Is Lady Branwin's presence at this shop a secret?"
"Of course. Mamma wants to be made young and beautiful, so she goes secretly to Madame Coralie. A woman doesn't advertise her need of restoration."
"But I don't quite understand what sort of shop this Madame Coralie keeps?" said Ralph, looking puzzled and contracting his dark brows.
"It's a beauty-factory," explained Audrey, hugging her knees; "women like mamma go there to regain whatever looks they may have had. I shall go also some day, when I am old and scraggy."
"Never, if you are my wife, dear. I want to see you grow old gracefully."