Labrador (N.L.) -- Fiction; London (England) -- Fiction; Love stories, English
Marjorie achieved a dress at once simple and good with great facility by
not asking the price until it was all over. (There is no half-success
with dinner-dresses, either the thing is a success and inestimable, or
not worth having at any price at all.) It was blue with a thread of
gold, and she had a necklace of blueish moonstones, gold-set, and her
hair ceased to be copper and became golden, and her eyes unfathomable
blue. She was radiant with health and happiness, no one else there had
her clear freshness, and her manner was as restrained and dignified and
ready as a proud young wife's can be. Everyone seemed to like her and
respect her and be interested in her, and Trafford kissed her flushed
cheek in the hansom as they came home again and crowned her happiness.
It had been quite a large party, and really much more splendid and
brilliant than anything she had ever seen before. There had been one old
gentleman with a coloured button and another with a ribbon; there had
been a countess with historical pearls, and half-a-dozen other people
one might fairly call distinguished. The house was tremendous in its
way, spacious, rich, glowing with lights, abounding in vistas and fine
remote backgrounds. In the midst of it all she had a sudden thrill at
the memory that less than a year ago she had been ignominiously
dismissed from the dinner-table by her father for a hiccup....
A few days after Aunt Plessington suddenly asked the Traffords to one of
her less important but still interesting gatherings; not one of those
that swayed the world perhaps, but one which Marjorie was given to
understand achieved important subordinate wagging. Aunt Plessington had
not called, she explained in her note, because of the urgent demands the
Movement made upon her time; it was her wonderful hard-breathing way
never to call on anyone, and it added tremendously to her reputation;
none the less it appeared--though here the scrawl became illegible--she
meant to shove and steer her dear niece upward at a tremendous pace.
They were even asked to come a little early so that she might make
Trafford's acquaintance.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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