Lady Darlington pouted. She was provokingly pretty when she pouted. She had pouted at Darlington on the day he met her.
"But I was happy," she declared.
"You weren't satisfied in your heart; I'm sure you always felt there was better work to be done?"
"Oh yes, but I hoped to get leading parts in time."
"I mean purer work," explained the duchess, wincing, "social, helpful work."
Lady Darlington laughed. She was prettier still when she laughed. She had laughed at Darlington on the day he proposed.
"No, really not," she said frankly, "I never thought about it for a moment. Do you know, Duchess, I've always wanted to ask you—didn't you ache to go back to it after you married?"
"Oh never," exclaimed the duchess; "I was grateful to Providence for letting me get away from it all. Circumstances made me go into the business, but I was never a pro—I mean to say a 'professional'—by nature. My father, the captain, died when I was quite a child, and I had my dear mother to support."
"M'yes," murmured Lady Darlington, looking at the ceiling. "You were before my time, but of course I've heard.... Perhaps if I had been in the music-halls I should have been glad to get away from it all," she added; "I was in the theatres, you know."
"The 'smalls,' I think—I mean to say the 'minor provincial towns?'" said the duchess a shade tartly; "one of Jenkinson's Number II. companies, wasn't it?"