Whereupon the soubrette, with the brown curls and the wicked blue eyes, pulled his sleeve and made him upset a claret glass.
"What a clumsy creature you are," she whispered. "And what is the use of talking to that ridiculous old fool? Tell me, do you think Miss Brunel handsome?"
"I think she has the face of a woman of genius," he said, with a glance of genuine admiration.
"Bah! that means nothing. Don't you think she shows her teeth on purpose when she laughs; and then those big, soft eyes make her look affectedly sentimental. Why do you grin so? I suppose I am not as handsome as she is; but I wonder if she could put on my gloves and boots?"
"You have adorable hands and feet, Miss Featherstone; everybody allows that."
"Thank you. They say that every ugly woman has pretty hands and feet."
"Nature leaves no creature absolutely unprotected, my dear. Let me give you some vanilla cream."
"You are a brute. I hate you."
"I have generally found that when a young lady says she hates you, she means she loves you—if you have a good income."
"I have generally found that when a young lady rejects her suitor because of his want of brain, he instantly says she cast him off because of his want of money. But I wish you'd keep quiet, and let me hear what Mr. Melton is saying about next week. If he thinks I'll play the people in with a farce, as well as play in the burlesque, he is mistaken. However, since you people have taken to write up Miss Brunel, she will order everything; and if the poor dear thinks seven too soon for her nerves after tea, I suppose she will get played whatever she wants."