Lagardère shrugged his shoulders.
‘What I meant was simply this, sir. Just as we recognise in certain faces the Jewish physiognomy; just as we see in certain religious orders the ascetic or separatist experience; just as in another way we distinguish the blood of the racehorse, or the breed of the greyhound, so we recognise in a certain type of women the type of the hetairai. The type is so uniform on the stage that if we take up a whole album of theatrical beauties, we shall find the features of a family, the characteristics of twin sisters.’
‘Am I to understand,’ said Sutherland, still retaining his self-possession, ‘that in Miss Vere you recognise the type of woman without virtue?’
‘Certainly,’ drawled Lagardère. ‘Observe, I am making no personal accusation. If the lady is a friend of yours——’
Sutherland rose to his feet.
‘And if she is, Mr. Lagardère, since that is your name——’
‘Why, then, I envy your luck, that’s all.’ returned Lagardère, with an ugly smile; and there was a general laugh.
Sutherland’s hands came down, and they were clenched as if for a blow; but Crieff placed a warning hand upon his arm, and drew him away.
‘Don’t excite yourself/ he said. ‘It’s only Lagardère.’ ‘The man is insufferable.’
‘Everybody knows that.’