Sit down, Mary, please, Mrs. Sumner urged.
Mary sat down. He was nowhere in sight. Hester, hopping, bobbing, Russia Cloudcroft, how many more, had circled the floor twice, but she could not find him.
I suppose this is a novel experience for you, Mrs. Lorillard? She was trying to make herself agreeable.
Not precisely that, Campaspe averred, but a charming one.
You've been to coloured balls before?
No, never! I mean I've been to balls before. They're all more or less alike. The differences are in favour of this one. What beautiful women! What handsome men! What a fascinating kaleidoscope of colour! And what fervour! You know, Emily—she turned to Mrs. Sumner—I like people who live.
I know you do, Mrs. Sumner replied. How is Byron getting on? she asked Mary.
Fine, thank you, Mary responded.
Has he found something to do?
Oh yes, he's got something splendid! . . . The next instant she wondered what had made her utter this falsehood.
I'm delighted to hear it. Aaron had something in mind—something good too—which he thought might suit him, but Byron hasn't been near us.
He's been so busy, Mary heard herself say.
