Once past the exclamatory stage, she seemed a
great talker, laying bare her little soul with perfect liberality. And
Gyp--excellent listener--enjoyed it, as one enjoys all confidential
revelations of existences very different from one's own, especially when
regarded as a superior being.
"Of course I don't mean to stay at home any longer than I can help; only
it's no good going out into life"--this phrase she often used--"till
you know where you are. In my profession, one has to be so careful. Of
course, people think it's worse than it is; father gets fits sometimes.
But you know, Mrs. Fiorsen, home's awful. We have mutton--you know what
mutton is--it's really awful in your bedroom in hot weather. And there's
nowhere to practise. What I should like would be a studio. It would be
lovely, somewhere down by the river, or up here near you. That WOULD
be lovely. You know, I'm putting by. As soon as ever I have two hundred
pounds, I shall skip. What I think would be perfectly lovely would be
to inspire painters and musicians. I don't want to be just a common
'turn'--ballet business year after year, and that; I want to be
something rather special. But mother's so silly about me; she thinks I
oughtn't to take any risks at all. I shall never get on that way. It
IS so nice to talk to you, Mrs. Fiorsen, because you're young enough to
know what I feel; and I'm sure you'd never be shocked at anything.
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