Let us waive the point.
"Then to the Charity Ball I shall go," he had answered, promptly.
"Will you?" shrilled Jane. "Oh, goody! And you won't be disappointed,
either. It's the one great, magnificent thing of the year. Everybody
goes. And they have 'C-h-a-r-i-t-y' in electric lights, and palm-trees,
and champagne, and two different places to eat supper in." Jane had never
attended one of these entertainments; her wealth of picturesque detail
was gathered from the newspapers.
"Ouf!" said Truesdale, indifferently, discounting the magnificence. He
had been to one ball at the British embassy in Rome, and to another at
the Hotel de Ville in Paris, and did not expect to be impressed. He
rather looked to find this coming occasion like the latter--a
heterogeneous assemblage of elements whose value was doubtful separately
and not much greater collectively.
Jane ran to her fairy godmother; through Mrs. Bates everything appeared
possible. "You must put him on the committee," said Jane; "or you must
make him a floor-manager or something." Jane's head swam with a social
vertigo; she could call spirits from the vasty deep and feel perfectly
sure of their coming.
"Very well," responded Mrs. Bates; "a floor-manager he shall be."
"He'll do it splendidly, too," declared Jane; "he's so alert, and so
self-possessed, and so awfully graceful and good-looking. Just the right
height, and a very handsome figure--don't you think?"
"Too slender.
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