Lady Holme felt acute irritation at this remark, but she only said:
“Does she?”
“Something in her colouring. I’m sure she’s a man’s woman, but I can’t say I found her interesting.”
“Men’s women seldom are interesting to us. They don’t care to be,” said Lady Holme.
Suddenly she thought that possibly between Pimpernel Schley and herself there were resemblances unconnected with colouring.
“I suppose not. But still—ah, here’s Cadogan Square!”
She kissed Lady Holme lightly on the cheek.
“Fifty-eight!” Lady Holme said to herself as she went into the house. “Just think of being fifty-eight if one has been a man’s woman! Perhaps it’s better after all to be an everybody’s woman. Well, but how’s it done?”
She looked quite puzzled as she came into the drawing-room, where Robin Pierce had been waiting impatiently for twenty minutes.
“Robin,” she said seriously, “I’m very unhappy.”