“To be an actress,” he said, “you require a special and peculiar temperament. ‘What’s wrong, miss? Ain’t I done right?’ Melusine’s mind was reeling, but she reached out and seized his wrist. He was keen to get to work, but the inspiration would not come. Every movable mirror had been placed here, to discourage vanity, and since no whitewash covered the brocaded purple wallpaper, its pervasive hue gave an added sense of heaviness to the crowded chamber. But her mind was ruffled, and its mirror-like surface of satisfaction was not easily restored. "Where did you learn the song I heard just now?" he demanded, in an authoritative tone. Of what was she thinking? She must rescue herself. People shrug their shoulders and call me a crazy socialist. He must win this man's confidence, even at the risk of being called mad.
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