She laughed. “And you doubly knew what it was. Yes, I think it will go.” She took another pose, and then another. “What do you think of it, Mrs. Stager?” she called to the woman standing respectfully abeyant at one side.
“It’s awful. I don’t know but I’ll be afraid to go to my room.”
“Sit down, and I’ll go to your room with you when I’m through. I won’t be long, now.”
She tried different gauzes, which she had lying on one of the chairs, and crowned herself with triumph in the applauses of her two spectators, rejoicing with a glee that Verrian found childlike and winning. “If they’re all like you, it will be the greatest success!”
“They’ll all be like me, and more,” he said, “I’m really very severe.”
“Are you a severe person?” she asked, coming forward to him. “Ought people to be afraid of you?”
“Yes, people with bad consciences. I’m rattier afraid of myself for that reason.”
“Have you got a bad conscience?” she asked, letting her eyes rest on his.
“Yes. I can’t make my conduct square with my ideal of conduct.”
“I know what that is!” she sighed. “Do you expect to be punished for it?”