"Polly, if you heap
compliments on me like this, I shall cease to believe that you're a woman.
Tell me how I am to be a Power."
"Inform The Mussuck that he is the most fascinating and slimmest man in Asia,
and he'll tell you anything and everything you please."
"Bother The Mussuck! I mean an intellectual Power--not a gas-power. Polly, I'm
going to start a salon."
Mrs. Mallowe turned lazily on the sofa and rested her head on her hand. "Hear
the words of the Preacher, the son of Baruch," she said.
"Will you talk sensibly?"
"I will, dear, for I see that you are going to make a mistake."
"I never made a mistake in my life at least, never one that I couldn't explain
away afterward."
"Going to make a mistake," went on Mrs. Mallowe, composedly. "It is impossible
to start a salon in Simla. A bar would be much more to the point."
"Perhaps, but why? It seems so easy."
"Just what makes it so difficult. How many clever women are there in Simla?"
"Myself and yourself," said Mrs. Hauksbee, without a moment's hesitation.
"Modest woman! Mrs. Feardon would thank you for that. And how many clever
men?"
"Oh--er--hundreds," said Mrs. Hauksbee, vaguely.
"What a fatal blunder! Not one. They are all bespoke of the Government.
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