The music was playing all the
time. The popping of corks was almost incessant, the volume of sound had
swelled. The laughter and greeting of friends betrayed more abandon than
earlier in the evening. Old acquaintances had been renewed, and new ones
made. Mademoiselle from Vienna was surrounded by a little circle of
admirers. Still she held in her right hand a crumpled up little ball of
lace.
Men passing down the room tried to attract the attention of the
beautiful young English demoiselle who looked out upon the little scene
so indifferently as regarded individuals, and yet with such eager
interest as a whole. No one was bold enough, however, to make a second
effort. Necessity at times gives birth to a swift capacity. Fresh from
her simple country life, Phyllis found herself still able with
effortless serenity to confound the most hardened boulevarders who
paused to ogle her. Her eyes and lips expressed with ease the most
convincing and absolute indifference to their approaches. A man may
sometimes brave anger; he rarely has courage to combat indifference. So
Phyllis held her own and waited.
And at last the handkerchief fell.
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