An Englishman would not have taken even a
little bit of trouble to help us." I noticed the race prejudice in her
tone, but I did not comment on it.
Then followed the customary conversation, I doing most of the talking. I
began by telling her how big our country was; how many people we had;
how rich the land; how wealthy the citizens; how great the opportunities
for artists seeking distinction, etc. We all do that with foreigners.
Then I tried to lead the conversation so as to find out something about
herself--particularly where she could be seen in Paris. She was charming
in her travelling-costume--she would be superb in low neck and bare
arms, her pets snuggling under her chin, or alighting on her upraised,
shapely hands. But either she did not understand, or she would not let
me see she did--the last, probably, for most professional people dislike
all reference to their trade by non-professionals--they object to be
even mentally classed by themselves.
While we talked on, the Dog Woman opened the door of her compartment,
knocked at the Dog's door--his Dogship and the maid were inside--patted
the brute on his head, and re-entered her compartment and shut the door
for the night.
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