Now he merely turned, peered into his own bedroom, assured himself that Hermione would find its prototype to her fancy, and then summoned a waiter.
Behind the closed door of the other room a girl was similarly engaged in taking stock of the situation; but she had feminine assistance, so there was bound to be talk.
"Oh, your ladyship, isn't this just the dandiest bit out of a novel you ever read ?" cried Marcelle when she entered her mistress's room through a communicating door.
"It might be more thrilling if it were not a page out of my own life," said Hermione sadly.

She, too, was gazing in a mirror, though, being a woman, the oppressive thought bobbed up through a sea of troubles that her hair must be untidy, and she owned neither comb nor brush.
"But, what luck, miss, your ladyship, to have found a gentleman like Mr.Curtis at the right moment.

Talk about life buoys for drowning men and rich uncles from California in plays--who ever heard of anyone wanting a nice husband and getting him in such a way!" Marcelle's eyes were positively glistening.

And these two now were not mistress and maid, but a pair of highly strung women, and young ones at that.
"You have lost your wits in this night's excitement, Marcelle," said Hermione.

"Don't you realize that I am only married under mere pretense.