Her mind was too full of other things. Still
undoubtedly this would suit her. Old family--the young man himself heir
presumptive to a marquisate money--high character--everything that mortal
mother could desire. And Marcia was attracted--Waggin was certain of it.
The mingled feeling with which she spoke of him proved it to the hilt. And
yet--let not Mr. Newbury suppose that she was to be easily run to earth! In
Waggin's opinion he had his work cut out for him.
Covent Garden filled from floor to ceiling with a great audience for
an important "first night"--there is no sight in London, perhaps, that
ministers more sharply to the lust of modern eyes and the pride of modern
life. Women reign supreme in it. The whole object of it is to provide
the most gorgeous setting possible, for a world of women--women old and
young--their beauty or their jewels, their white necks and their gray
heads; the roses that youth wears--divinely careless; or the diamonds
wherewith age must make amends for lost bloom and vanished years.
Marcia never entered the Coryston box, which held one of the most coveted
positions on the grand tier, without a vague thrill of exultation; that
instinctive, overbearing delight in the goods of Vanity Fair, which the
Greek called _hubris_, and which is only vile when it outlives youth.
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