“MY DEAR VERONICA,—Your aunt tells me you have involved yourself in some arrangement with the Widgett girls about a Fancy Dress Ball in London. I worshipped her and subdued myself. From the point of view of most things in the world of employment which a woman can do reasonably well and earn a living by, you’re unripe and half-educated. "At the bottom of that big envelope I found this one. The Wastrel did not relish this. That was supposed to be Madame Valade. It was only a few months ago that I told you you must come to London, and you only laughed at me. On the stranger's appearance, she was seated near the window busily occupied with her needle. " "And I'm glad your worship's recognition doesn't come too late," observed the Master. She had a few acquaintances, English gentlemen, but she lived with her sister—was a lady.
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