‘Well, she’s a brilliant creature,’ said Kendal.  ’It’s extraordinary how she shone out beside the pretty English girls about her.  It is an intoxicating possession for a woman, such beauty as that; it’s like royalty; it places the individual under conditions quite unlike those of common mortals.  I suppose it’s that rather than any real ability as an actress that has made her a success?  I noticed the papers said as much—­some more politely than others.’

’Oh, she’s not much of an actress; she has no training, no finesse.  But you’ll see, she’ll be the great success of the season.  She has wonderful grace on the stage, and a fine voice in spite of tricks.  And then her Wesen is so attractive; she is such a frank, unspoilt, good-hearted creature.  Her audience falls in love with her, and that goes a long way.  But I wish she had had a trifle more education and something worth calling a training.  Her manager, Robinson, talks of her attempting all the great parts; but it’s absurd.  She talks very naively and prettily about “her art”; but really she knows no more about it than a baby, and it is perhaps part of her charm that she is so unconscious of her ignorance.’

‘It is strange how little critical English audiences are,’ said Kendal.  ’I believe we are the simplest people in the world.  All that we ask is that our feelings should be touched a little, but whether by the art or the artist doesn’t matter.  She has not been long playing in London, has she?’

’Only a few weeks.  It’s only about two months since she landed from Jamaica.  She has a curious history, if you care to hear it; I don’t think I’ve seen you at all since I made friends with her?’

‘No,’ said Kendal; ’I was beginning to suspect that something absorbing had got hold of you.  I’ve looked for you two or three times at the club, and could not find you.’

’Oh, it’s not Miss Bretherton that has taken up my time.  She’s so busy that nobody can see much of her.  But I have taken her and her people out, two or three times, sight-seeing, since they came—­Westminster Abbey, the National Gallery, and so forth.  She is very keen about everything, and the Worralls—­her uncle and aunt—­stick to her pretty closely.’

‘Where does she come from?’

’Well, her father was the Scotch overseer of a sugar plantation not far from Kingston, and he married an Italian, one of your fair Venetian type—­a strange race-combination; I suppose it’s the secret of the brilliancy and out-of-the-wayness of the girl’s beauty.  Her mother died when she was small, and the child grew up alone.  Her father, however, seems to have been a good sort of man, and to have looked after her.  Presently she drew the attention of an uncle, a shopkeeper in Kingston, and a shrewd, hard, money-making fellow, who saw there was something to be made out of her.  She had already shown a turn for reciting, and had performed at various places—­in the schoolroom