She wheeled round, and looked at him with a curious scrutiny.
"Well, this is something new!" she said, as she turned to the mirror again. "I thought it was the fortunate Harry Thornhill who received all kinds of compliments and attentions from his lady adorers; I wasn't aware he ever returned them. But do
you think it is quite fair, Mr. Moore? If this is some girl who has a love-sick fancy for Harry Thornhill, don't you think you should drop Harry Thornhill and play David Garrick, to cure the poor thing?"
"Considering that Miss Cunyngham has never seen Harry Thornhill," he was beginning, when she interrupted him:
"Oh, only heard him sing in private? Quite enough, I suppose, to put nonsense into a silly school-girl's head."
"When you see this young lady," he observed, "I don't think you will say she looks like a silly school-girl. She's nearly as tall as I am, for one thing."
"I hate giraffes," said Miss Burgoyne, tartly, "Do you put a string round her neck when you go out walking with her?"
He was just on the point of saying something about greenroom manners, but thought better of it.
"Now, Miss Burgoyne," he said to her, "on Saturday night you are going to put on your most winning way—you can do it when you like—and you are going to captivate and fascinate those two people until they'll go away home with the conviction that you are the most charming and delightful creature that ever lived. You can do it easily enough if you like—no one better. You are going to be very nice to them, and you'll send them away just in love with Grace Mainwaring."
Miss Burgoyne altered her tone a little.