extravagant growths of flesh if they could be proved to be musical necessities.  But Evelyn was by no means flat-chested ... and he remembered certain curves and plenitudes with satisfaction.  Then, catching sight of Evelyn’s frightened face, he forced himself to invent conversation.  That was the Madeleine, a fine building, in a way; and the boulevard they had just entered was the Boulevard Malesherbes, which was called after a celebrated French lawyer.  The name Haussmann recalled the Second Empire, and he ransacked his memory for anecdotes.  But soon his conversation grew stilted—­even painful.  He could continue it no longer, and, taking her hand, he assured her that, if she did not sing well, she should come to Madame Savelli again.  Evelyn’s face lighted up, and she said that what had frightened her was the finality of the decision—­a few minutes in which she might not be able to sing at all.  Owen reproved her.  How could she think that he would permit such a barbarism?  It really did not matter a brass button whether she sang well or ill on this particular day; if she did not do herself justice, another appointment should be made.  He had money enough to hire Madame Savelli to listen to her for the next six months, if it were required.

He was truly sorry for her.  Poor little girl! it really was a dreadful ordeal.  Yet he had never seen her look better.  What a difference dressing her had made!  Her manner, too, had improved.  That was the influence of his society.  By degrees, he’d get rid of all her absurd ideas.  But he sorely wished that Madame Savelli’s verdict would prove him right—­not for his sake—­it didn’t matter to him—­such teeth, such hands, such skin, such eyes and hair!  Voice or no voice, he had certainly got the most charming mistress in Europe!  But, if she did happen to have a great voice it would make matters so much better for them.  He had plenty of money—­twenty thousand lying idle—­but it was better that she should earn money.  It would save her reputation ... in every way it would be better.  If she had a voice, and were a success, this liaison would be one of the most successful things in his life.  If he were wrong, they’d have to get on as best they could, but he didn’t think that he could be altogether mistaken.

The door was opened by a footman in livery, and they ascended half-a-dozen steps into the house.  Then, off a wide passage, a door was opened, and they found themselves in a great saloon with polished oak floor.  There was hardly any furniture—­three or four chairs, some benches against the walls and a grand piano.  The mantelpiece was covered with photographs, and there were life-sized photographs in frames on the walls.  Owen pointed to one of a somewhat stout woman in evening-dress, and he whispered an illustrious name.

A moment after madame entered.

She was of medium height, thin and somewhat flat-chested.  Her hair was iron-grey, and the face was marked with patches of vivid colouring.  The mouth was a long, determined line, and the lines of the hips asserted themselves beneath the black silk dress.  She glanced quickly at Evelyn as she went towards Sir Owen.