Folly's big brown eyes seemed to be closed, but in reality they were fixed on a little clock in plain, white porcelain, to match the room, which stood on a glass shelf high on the wall in front of her. "I'm sure that old clock has stopped," she cried petulantly to the masseuse. "Tell me if it's ticking."
"Ut's ticking," said the masseuse, patiently. Then she added, as though she were reciting: "Be mindful. Youth is a fund that can be saved up like pennies. The tenure of youth and beauty is determined by the amount and the quality—"
"Of relaxation," chanted Folly, breaking in. "It is not enough that the body be relaxed; wrinkles come from the mind. Relax your mind even as you relax your fingers and your toes. Tra-la-la, la-la!" Folly wriggled the free tips of her pink toes. She felt the maid come in. "What do you want, Marie?"
"Nothing, Miss," said the maid; "only I think something must of happened."
"Nothing, only something's happened," mimicked Folly. "Well, what's happened?"
"It's Mr. Lewis's governor, Miss, please. He's here, and he says he just must see you."
"So you let him in, did you? At half-past ten in the morning? How much did he give you?"
"Oh, nothing at all, Miss." Marie paused. "He's that charming he didn't have to give me anything."
"H—m—m!" said Folly. "Well, go ask him what he wants."
"He won't say, Miss. He's that troubled he just keeps his eyes on the floor, an' says as he has something private he must tell you. Perhaps Mr. Lewis has broke his leg. I'm sure I don't know."