"The people are so absurdly sentimental," he replied. "Whenever
I see a man with long hair and dreamy eyes, I know he is a
German."
"You are unjust," said Beatrice, as she left him to join Lillian.
"You are jealous," said Lionel, who had overheard the
conversation. "Look out for a rival in the lists, my lord."
"I wish this tiresome ball were over," sighed Lord Airlie. "I
shall have no chance of speaking while it is on the tapis."
But he soon forgot his chagrin. The formidable Gaspar appeared
that very morning, and, although Lord Airlie could perceive that
he was at once smitten with Beatrice's charms, he also saw that
she paid no heed whatever to the new-comer; indeed, after a few
words of courteous greeting, she returned to the point under
discussion--what flowers would look best in the ball room.
"If we have flowers at all," she said, imperiously, "let them be
a gorgeous mass of bloom--something worth looking at; not a few
pale blossoms standing here and there like 'white sentinels'; let
us have flowers full of life and fragrance. Lillian, you know
what I mean; you remember Lady Manton's flowers--tier after tier
of magnificent color.
Pages:
293
294
295
296
297
298
299
300
301
302
303
304
305
306
307
308
309
310
311
312
313
314
315
316
317