“My dear Fritz,” she said in a rather loud, clear voice, like the voice of one speaking to a child, “my dear Fritz, you’re surely aware that I have been the subject of Miss Schley’s talent ever since she arrived in London?”
“You! What d’you mean?”
“You surely can’t be so blind as not to have seen what all London has seen?”
“What’s all London seen?’
“Why, that Miss Schley’s been mimicking me!”
“Mimickin’ you!”
The brown of his large cheeks was invaded by red.
“But you have noticed it. I remember your speaking about it.”
“Not I!” he exclaimed with energy.
“Yes. You spoke of the likeness between us, in expression, in ways of looking and moving.”