"Thank you," said Audrey, coldly, and then irrelevantly asked a question which haunted her mind, and was on the top of her tongue. "Mrs. Mellop, you usually know everyone. Who is Rosy Pearl?"
Mrs. Mellop stared aghast. "My dear child," she said, in a shocked tone, "you should know nothing about such a creature."
"A creature! What creature?" asked Audrey, colouring vividly.
"She is a music-hall artist," said Mrs. Mellop, solemnly--"a painted butterfly."
[CHAPTER VI.]
AUDREY'S KNIGHT-ERRANT
"A painted butterfly!" Audrey's lip curled at the phrase. It exactly described the kind of woman her father's animal nature would be drawn to. In her mind's eye she saw the pathetic figure of her mother trying to recover her faded prettiness with Madame Coralie's assistance, so as to win back a love that required to be stimulated by mere beauty of form and face. And a music-hall artist!
"Is she respectable?" asked Audrey, suddenly.
"Oh, quite," said Mrs. Mellop, laughing artificially. "But I wonder why you ask?"
"Oh, I merely heard her name," answered Audrey, quietly. "Why do you laugh?"