"Whoever would suspect," she asked, turning over her shoulder to Susan
Bates, "that I was a natural-born rail?"
"Nobody," the other responded. "You never looked so well in your life."
Jane blushed with pleasure. At that moment two of the Fortnightly ladies
passed--clever creatures, who could drive culture and society abreast.
Jane, with the flush still on her face and a happy glitter in those wide
eyes, leaned forward and bowed in the most marked style at her command.
"I am here myself," she seemed to announce.
"Well," said one of the Fortnightly ladies, "where is the 'Decadence'
now?"
"Ah!" smiled the other, "that's past, and the 'Renaissance' is here
again!"
However, Jane was not so taken up with her literary affinities as to lose
sight of her own kith and kin. She saw Rosy swim past once or twice, and
was gratified by constant glimpses of an active and radiant Truesdale.
Once Statira Belden drove by in saffron satin and a mother-of-pearl
tiara. "And that's her daughter with her," commented Jane. "And there's
that girl from New York. And there goes her son--that smooth-faced little
snip. Huh!--compare him with our Truesdale!"
She leaned forward eagerly as her brother came once more into view.
"Yes," she said, "his flower is all right, and the soles of his shoes. I
wonder if--" and she leaned still farther forward and drew in a long
breath through her nose. "No, I can't smell it; I don't believe it's
bothered him any!"
Jane, in the earlier part of the evening, had sent Truesdale to the ball
as a lady sends a knight to battle.
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