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The young man of the day, as a general rule, has no more notion
how to kiss a woman's hand than how to take snuff or dance a pavane.
Indeed, lots of them don't know how to kiss a girl at all.
"My dear," she said. "I was much more respectable sitting on the stage
at tea with my horse, Sultan, than supping with you at the Savoy. You
don't know the deadly respectability of most people in the profession,
and the worst of it is that while we're being utterly dull and dowdy,
the public think we're having a devil of a time. So we don't even get
the credit of our virtues. I prefer the Savoy--and this." She turned to
me. "It is nice having decent people to tea. Do you know what I should
love? I should love to have an At Home day--and receive ladies, real
ladies. And I have such a sweet place, haven't I?"
"You have many beautiful things around you," said I truthfully.
She sighed. "I should like more people to see them."
"In fact," said I, "you have social ambitions, Madame Brandt?"
She looked at me for a moment out of the corner of her eye.


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