“Ice, my lady?”
Lady Holme started. Till the footman spoke she had not quite realised how deeply interested she was in the conversation. She helped herself to some ice.
“You can go on, Mr. Pierce,” she said when the man had gone.
“But you understand.”
She shook her head, smiling. Her body still looked soft and attractive, and deliciously feminine.
“Miss Schley happens to have some vague resemblance to you in height and colouring. She is a clever mimic. She used to be a professional mimic.”
“Really!”
“That was how she first became known.”
“In America?”
“Yes.”