"Ah, more chic," he said, looking at her steadily with a little lurking mockery in the corners of his eyes.
"I'm not fooling him," she said to herself, impressed by the steadiness of his judicial look, half inquisitorial, half amused. Nevertheless, she continued with a mincing imitation of Violetta Pax, who could be heard discoursing on art.
"What charming weather! Do you like our show? Have you seen it?"
"Yes—have you?" he said, with malice in his eyes.
"What do you mean by that? I'm sure I don't know!"
"I understood you came in place of your sister. Did you forget?"
She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, knowing the comedy useless, but continuing it. She was easily impressed, especially at a first meeting, and she had a feeling that to be a judge one must know all, see through every subterfuge.
"'Course I've only been in the sextette a couple of nights."
"And what is your ambition? Tragedy?"
"Oh, no!" she said, with an important seriousness. "I don't think tragedy's in my complexion, do you? I dote on comedy, though; I'd like to be a Maude Adams s-some day."