" Now she stood in the entrance hall
of the academy, where, it can truthfully be said, that no heathen
goddess received so much adoration and admiration as was bestowed on
"Turpsichor" by Mr Poulter and Miss Nippett. To these simple souls,
it was the finest work of art to be found anywhere in the world,
while the younger amongst the pupils regarded the forlorn statue
with considerable awe.
When a move was made to the ballroom, Miss Nippett whispered to
Mavis:
"If Mr Poulter wins the great cotillion prize competition 'e's goin'
in for, I 'ope to stand 'Turpsichor' a clean, and a new coat of
paint."
When all three had waited in the ballroom some minutes, the pupils
for the night classes straggled in, the "gentlemen" bringing their
dancing shoes in their overcoat pockets, the "ladies" theirs, either
in net-bags or wrapped in odd pieces of brown paper. These "ladies"
were much of a type, being either shop-girls or lady clerks, with a
sprinkling of maid-servants and board school teachers. They were
pale-faced, hard-working, over-dressed young women who read Marie
Corelli, and considered her "deep"; who had one adjective with which
to express appreciation of things, this "artistic"; anything they
condemned was spoken of as "awful"; one and all liked to be
considered what they called "up-to-date.
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