“Of course it will. If you put yourself into proper hands, you won’t know yourself. When I say ‘proper hands’ I do not mean my own. My business is connected entirely with the hair, nothing else, but I know who are skilled in all matters of diet. I will give you the name and address of a doctor in Harley Street who will charge you a fixed sum for your course, and who will give you the smallest and closest directions for getting rid of your superfluous fat without making you in the least bit skinny or withered.”
“I am very grateful to you,” said Regina; “I wish I had not gone to Madame Polson. Not that two guineas is a matter of very great importance, but I hate being done.”
“Of course you do, all nice, sensible people do. But you will not take those tablets, will you?”
“Not in the face of what you have told me. Will you give me the address of the doctor in Harley Street? I will go to him now.”
“You cannot go to him now; you see it is past his hours—you have been here so long. Let me give you a cup of tea.”
“You are very kind.”
“And you will let me do your hair for a week?”
“Yes, I will come every day for a week. Tell me, how do you charge for your treatments?”
“Well, we give so many for a guinea. A simple treatment is brushing it and arranging it in the ordinary way. Shampooing is extra, the combs are extra, the frame is extra, and waving the hair is again another charge. We will put your treatment to-day at a lump sum—half-a-guinea. You should take another guinea’s worth of simple treatments—that is to say, I will brush your hair every day for a week, wave it and dress it like this for a guinea. After that, if you come to me once a week you will find that your hair will be kept in perfect condition. Occasionally you will care to have a shampoo, but that is as you feel. I have many clients who never have their heads touched except with my hair brushes.”
“But about my toque? I cannot go out like this. I must put my hair back to-day. I must get home.”