Hers was one of those rare cases where the initial drudgery and patient waiting that attends so many careers was practically eliminated, and at the age of twenty she was probably the most talked-of woman in London.
She had discarded the family surname for professional purposes, and appeared in public under the name of Wielitzska--"to save the reigning Vallincourts from a soul convulsion," as she observed with a twinkle.
During the last year, influenced by the growing demands of her vocation, she had quitted her godmother's hospitable roof and established herself in a house of her own.
Nor had Lady Arabella sought to dissuade her.

Although she and Magda were the best of friends, she had latterly found the onus of chaperoning her god-child an increasingly heavy burden.

As she herself remarked: "You might as well attempt to chaperon a comet!" It was almost inevitable that Magda, starred and feted wherever she went, should develop into a rather erratic and self-willed young person, but on the whole she had remained singularly unspoilt.

Side by side with her gift for dancing she had also inherited something of her mother's sweetness and wholesomeness of nature.

There was nothing petty or mean about her, and many a struggling member of her own profession had had good cause to thank "the Wielitzska" for a helping hand.
Women found in her a good pal; men, an elusive, provocative personality that bewitched and angered them in the same breath, coolly accepting all they had to offer of love and headlong worship--and giving nothing in return.
It was not in the least that Magda deliberately set herself to wile a man's heart out of his body.