“He looked superb. Oh, so smart; spats, speckled trousers, the rest all deep indigo. Rather Russian.”
“Who?”
“My actor-husband, Paul. There. One has only to speak his name for Juno to jerk her tail.”
“With whom is he at present?”
“With Sydney Iphis.”
“We went last night to see Mrs. Starcross,” Sir Oliver said.
“She’s no draw.”
“I long to see her,” Miss Sinquier breathed.
“I understand, my dear young lady, you’ve an itch for the footlights yourself.”
Miss Sinquier began eating crumbs at random.