The secret of what I had done did not remain a secret-I don't know how it got to the ears of the girls, but after dinner, when we had all together that evening, one of them got me alone in a corner of the drawing room and whispered, “So you've been with Lord X-, this afternoon?” My blush was sufficient answer.

“Come out with me this evening,” she whispered, tickling my hand, “I can promise you a lot of fun.”

Her tone, and the gesture with which she accompanied her invitation, gave me full well to understand that something naughty was in the wind-“Must I ask Madame Karl's permission?” I asked.

“Of course.”

“My dear little Nemmy,” said Madame Karl, when I told her, “of course you can go, but I warn you that this will be something quite out of the common. Nelly knows more than a bit.”

Now you mustn't run away with the idea that Madame Kirl kept a bad house in the sense that her assistants were tarts and nothing else. As far as they were concerned, there was precious little wickedness performed on the premises; but Madame gave them a free hand on their off evenings, just as all the swagger dressmaker's establishment in London and Paris do.

“They all have their latch keys at Gay's, and at Madame Marie's, too,” says Gladys, “I was at the latter for a bit myself and I know.”

Nelly was the youngest of Madame Karl's assistants, a little older than myself, and only just promoted to the dignity of long skirts. She was a pretty blonde, very well favored by nature, with a deliciously plump arm and shoulder, and very well developed breasts. Her legs were perfect; she was one of those few girls who could stand upright in an ordinary position, close her legs and keep a three penny bit between her thighs. She was proud of this and often used to show us the trick.

She was delighted when I said I could come, and insisted on lending me a dress. “Your own evening frock is delightful, my dear,” she explained, “but it isn't quite what we want for this evening.”