listened to her conscientiously, and I didn't perceive in what she did a single nuance, a single inflection or intention. But not one, mon cher. I don't think she's intelligent."
"But don't they often seem stupid at first?"
"Say always!"
"Then don't some succeed—even when they are handsome?"
"When they are handsome they always succeed—in one way or another."
"You don't understand us English," said Peter Sherringham.
Madame Carré drank her tea; then she replied: "Marry her, my son, and give her diamonds. Make her an ambassadress; she will look very well."
"She interests you so little that you don't care to do anything for her?"
"To do anything?"
"To give her a few lessons."
The old actress looked at him a moment: after which, rising from her place near the table on which the tea had been served, she said to Miriam Rooth: "My dear child, I give my voice for the scène anglaise. You did the English things best."
"Did I do them well?" asked the girl.
"You have a great deal to learn; but you have force. The principal things sont encore à degager, but they will come. You must work."
"I think she has ideas," said Mrs. Rooth.
"She gets them from you," Madame Carré replied.
