“I suppose it’s Zotos,” observed Lady Wrackley.
“Who’s Zotos?” inquired young Leving of the turned-up nose and the larky expression.
“A Greek who’s a genius and who lives in South Moulton Street.”
“What’s he do?”
“Things that men shouldn’t be allowed to know anything about. Talk to Bobbie for a minute, will you?”
She turned again to Mrs. Ackroyde.
“It must be Zotos. But even he will be in a difficulty with her if she wants to have very much done. She made the mistake of her life when she became an old woman. I remember saying at the time that some day she would repent in dust and ashes and want to get back, and that then it would be too late. How foolish she was!”
“She will be much more foolish now if she really begins again,” said Mrs. Ackroyde in her cool, common-sense way.
The young men were talking, and after a moment she continued:
“When a thing’s once been thoroughly seen by everyone and recognized for what it is, it is worse than useless to hide it or try to hide it. Adela should know that. But I must say she looked remarkably well to-night—for her. He’s a good-looking boy.”