“Of course,” he nodded vigorously. “There is no theatre here in the sense that you know it; there are some people who try pretty hard, but they don’t get much encouragement — and they’ve got a lot to learn.”
He studied her thoughtfully, marvelling at her dark beauty. The dead-white skin, the narrow arched eyebrows; the rather flat face with high cheek-bones, relieved by the sensual scarlet mouth and slumbrous dark eyes. No one would have thought of her as other than a woman, although she was actually little more than a girl. He put her down as about twenty-five.
“You are a Jew — are you not?” she asked suddenly.
He laughed jerkily again, as he ran his finger down his prominent nose. “Of course. I couldn’t hide this, could I? And as a matter of fact I’ve no wish to try.”
She laughed delightedly, showing two rows of strong white, even teeth. “I ’ave of the Jewish blood myself,” she said then, serious again in a moment. “My grandmother — she was a Jewess. It is good; there is no art where there is not Jewish blood.”
Simon looked round the big lounge-hall. “Plenty of them here tonight,” he said. And indeed, although there were a fair number of Christians, the majority of the guests were obviously what Simon would have termed “our people”. He smiled and waved a greeting as he caught sight of his friend, Richard Eaton, who was one of the Christian minority.
“I would like champagne,” declared Madame Karkoff, suddenly — throwing back her dark head, and exhaling a cloud of cigarette-smoke. “Lots and lots of champagne!”
“All right.” Simon stood up. “It’ll be in the billiard-room, I expect.”
She made no attempt to rise. “Bring it to me ’ere,” she said with a little shrug of the shoulders.
“Ner.” He shook his head rapidly as he uttered the curious negative which he often used. It came of his saying “no” without troubling to close the lips of his full mouth. “Ner — you come with me, it’s so crowded here.”