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Page 82
In fact, so gay was she, so full of life and high spirits, that she
appeared to have forgotten her lover completely, thereby giving the
Thistleton family cause to congratulate themselves in the seclusion of
their bedrooms.
"I told you so, Mamma," had said Ellen, this night of the full moon, as
she had pondered before the mirror upon the effect a headache-bandeau
in the shape of a royal asp would have upon a certain retired colonel
who seemed inclined to find solace for his long widowhood _en secondes
noces_. "She evidently did not see Mr. Kelham and Sybil on the
sand-bank, and I honestly do not think she cares for him a bit."
"No," broke in Berenice, whose hair clung to her head like wet seaweed
to a rock; "I am sure she does not. Do you think if Ambrose had--had
courted me and then neglected me, that I could have danced and laughed
and------"
"Well, I'm thankful," broke in Mamma. "Looking after any girl as
beautiful and-----"
"Erratic," supplied Ellen, who had decided on the headache-bandeau.
"--erratic as Damaris, is certainly no------"
"Sinecure," supplied Berenice, who, in the fervour of her affection for
her herculean cleric, gave no thought to such trifles as head-dresses,
and not much to the rest of her attire.
Giving a final pat to her offsprings' toilettes, Mamma shepherded them
downstairs, tapping at Damaris's door as she passed, inviting her to
join them in the Winter-Garden, where they were going to sit and look
at the dresses, and watch the arrival of the guests from the less
select hotels.
Damaris looked radiantly beautiful as she stood for a moment at the
window of her godmother's sitting-room, into which she had gone to
fetch a fan.
True, her eyes looked over-big in the violet shadows that surrounded
them, and her cheek and collar-bones were unduly prominent, but then,
however well you hide the fox of uncertainty which tears at the vitals
of your common sense and sense of humour, you cannot completely hide
the outward signs of the inner agony which tortures you.
"You're a perfect picture, dearie!" said Jane Coop as she tied the
ribbons of the simple, heelless, white leather shoes in which the girl
always preferred to dance. "Let me look at you just once more."
Like a slender lily Damaris stood under the electric light. The soft
white satin seemed to cling like a sheath to the slender, beautiful
figure; her arms were bare; the bodice cut low enough to show her
gleaming shoulders. She was dazzling, virginal, remote as she stood
quite still, looking down at her maid.
Her eyes looked intensely black; her red hair flamed; she wore no
jewels save for a massive jewelled brooch in the shape of a hawk which
glittered in the bodice just above the waist-belt where, thinking the
bodice too low, she had pinned it hastily.
"I don't like that brooch, dearie," said the maid. "It's a waste of
money, I think, to buy these heathen things. But there! you and her
grace know best. And don't forget your cloak, darling; it's too chilly
to sit out in the grounds without one, Egypt or no Egypt. I'll be real
glad when we run into Waterloo station, that I shall."
Damaris laughed as she took the satin cloak with broad sable collar,
then kissed her Nannie and walked down the corridor to her godmother's
sitting-room, followed by the bulldog.
"I don't want to dance, Well-Well; I'd much rather stay up here with
you and read."
"Humff!" said the dog, as he followed his beloved onto the small
balcony, where he stood as close as he could to her as she leant on the
rail, and looked up at the moon and out to the other side of the river,
where ruined temple and ruined tomb shone white.
"I'll come up and see you both," she said, looking down into the
hideously-beautiful face, with its honest eyes and beaming expression.
"But I can't take you down with me, you know. You might hurl yourself
into the middle of a fox-trot to find me. I'll bring you up a cake or
a chocolate, if you'll stay in here and not go after Jane to worry her
with my night-slippers. Good boy; stay here and wait for Missie."
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