"Tired! of course you are; it's ever so much more tiring looking on than dancing, and joining in the giddy round. I don't feel a bit tired; I'm a little bored." "Bored! what a word, my dear Bell," murmured Mrs. Fellowes, sleepily. "It's a good word--it's an expressive word--and it just means really what I feel." "And yet you received more attention than any woman--any girl--in the room, my dear," murmured Mrs. Fellowes. "My money-bags may have done so," said Lady Bell, scornfully; "not I. Do you think that if I were as penniless as one of Lady Southerly's daughters, I should receive as much attention? Fellowes, don't you take to flattering me. I couldn't stand that." "I don't want to flatter you, my dear Bell; but when the prince himself dances twice with you----" "Of course he did. I am a celebrity. I am the richest young woman in the kingdom, and he would have done it if I had been as ugly as sin--which isn't ugly, by the way." "What strange things you say," murmured Mrs. Fellowes, with mild rebuke. "I'm sure no girl received more attention than you have tonight. I sat and watched you, my dear, and a spectator sees more of the game than a player." "You are right, it is all a game, a gamble," retorted Lady Bell. "All those nice young men were playing pitch and toss who should make the hardest running with the great heiress. Do you think I am blind? I can see through them all, and I despise them. There isn't a man among them but would pay me the same court if I were as plain as Lucifer----" "My dear Bell----" "But it is true," said Lady Bell. "I can read them all. And if they knew how I despised them, even while I smile upon them, they would keep at arm's length for very shame. I wish I hadn't a penny in the world." "My dear Bell!" ejaculated Mrs. Fellowes, really and truly shocked at such a fearfully profane wish. "I do! I do! I should then find out if any one of them cared for me--for myself. You say I am beautiful, but you are so partial; do you think I am beautiful enough to cause any man to risk his all in life for my sake?" "I don't know. I don't just follow you," said poor Mrs. Fellowes. "No, you are half asleep," retorted Lady Bell. "There, curl yourself up and snooze. I shan't talk any more." Lady Bell leaned forward, and looked up at the stars--the same stars that seemed so numerous to poor Jack--and pondered over the events of the evening. It was true that a prince of the blood had danced there with her; it was true that, all through the evening, she had been surrounded by a court of the best men in London; it was true that she had sent one half the women home burning with envy and malice and all uncharitableness; but still she was not happy.