She leaves town to-morrow. “My dear,” the letter ran, “I have to tell you that your sister Gwen has offended your father very much. Will you lend me the money for my ticket to London?” “With all the pleasure in the world,” he answered heartily. ‘Would you care for some refreshment? A glass of wine, perhaps?’ ‘Nothing, merci, I do not remain,’ she answered, although she did not rise. She could tell that he probably wanted to kiss her, but she did not act upon the opportunity. Do you think that I shall ever make an actress, my friend?” “I doubt it,” he answered bluntly. And it's a maxim of universal application: or, at least, of universal practice.
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