“How pretty you’ve grown!” whispered Ave Maria timidly. “No one would take you for a professional.”
But a sudden fit of coughing brought scarlet patches to her pale cheeks.
“It catches me here,” she said, pressing her hand to her chest. “It’s damp, sometimes, in the tent. And then half-naked on those trestles. The work warms one, it’s true. The other night I saw some one who knew you, a gentleman. I should have liked to ask him more, but my brother struck him in the face. I got my turn after. However, I wanted to see you. I went to the Astrarium. I asked them.”
“Go on,” said Lily, who was burning to know, but did not want to show it. “Glass-Eye, give me my dressing-gown. Go on, please!”
“I don’t know that I dare,” said Ave Maria, “now that I have seen you. You are so much better-looking than I am. Are you still living with him?” she asked, in a low voice, fixing two fiery eyes on Lily.
“No,” said Lily, “I am living with nobody!”
“But they told me. I heard at Buenos Ayres ... the story of the whippings, your running away with him....”
“What whippings? And I’m living with nobody!” retorted Lily, very haughtily.
“But you have lived with him ... in Germany ... Trampy, you know.”
“No,” said Lily, “I was married, wasn’t I, Glass-Eye?”