Marie Laure listened in stony silence, with a quick little arrowlike glance at the younger woman’s face which revealed a greater knowledge of the lady’s reasons than she professed to have.
And she answered very drily that she supposed Madame would consult Mr. Candover about that.
“Oh, I have no need to consult anybody,” replied Audrey quickly, speaking in French, the only language Mademoiselle Laure professed to know. “I have made up my mind.”
“You have not been long enough at the head of the business to make it your own,” answered Mademoiselle sharply. “What have you done as yet except drive away some of the customers other people have brought you?”
This, Audrey thought, argued a very close acquaintance with what had taken place that afternoon, and a better knowledge of the English language than Laure professed to possess.
“I’ve paid fifteen hundred pounds,” answered Audrey, “for the lease and furniture, and I am entitled to get something for those.”
Laure looked grim.
“When you have worked up the business,” she said drily, “which you will do better when you have sacrificed some of your British primness and coldness, you will have a right to talk of your interest in it. At present what you have given is as nothing to what others have supplied.”
“I don’t pretend that I’ve given everything,” answered Audrey gently but with firmness, “I only said that I have a right to expect to get something for my share. Would you be inclined to buy me out? You are a much cleverer saleswoman than I should ever make.”
“Not at all. You want experience, not cleverness. We should do wonders by-and-by if you would lay aside your primness. Beauty like yours is an asset of great value in business as in everything else. If I had your face I would become a millionaire,” added Marie Laure with conviction.