They are tending to congregate, our poor French friends. She went to a dramatic agent, and he turned out to be the one who had heard me sing in Paris. I hope she falls off the face of the planet. It was never intended that I should marry Monsieur Valade, but after the tragedy—’ her eyes darkening in genuine distress ‘—and that he was the only survivor, he came to me in the convent and married me, and brought me to England. She sank upon her knees and unbuttoned his coat. In the distance a barrel-organ was grinding out a pot pourri of popular airs. And in those days, too, he used to help her mother with her gardening, and hover about her while she stood on the ladder and hammered creepers to the scullery wall.
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