“I have; but he did not seem interested in my conversation.”
“Oh, that’s Bernard’s way; he always thinks people mean to patronise him. You know London well, don’t you?”
“I’ve lived a good deal in town, certainly.”
“Should I pass muster in society?”
“Pass muster?” Farquhar repeated. It was not easy to abash him, but this young beauty, with her odd questions, contrived to do it.
“Yes. I know I am behaving in an unusual way now, but have I the accent and the appearance of a lady?”
“Most certainly you have.”
“Do you think so? Should I get on in town? Do you think I am sufficiently presentable to be an actress?”
“An actress? Yes, I should say you were.”
“You’ve not seen me act, of course; I can do it. And I’ve a passable voice, and I’m fairly good-looking. Books say that theatre-goers will put up with poor acting for the sake of a pretty face; is that true?”