“So glad you don’t think so. One gets so sick of hearing women gurgled about as wonders. I think it was Salisbury who said she was the most beautiful woman alive. And she goes right on, you know? Once you get fixed here as frightfully beautiful or witty you can die of old age before they stop saying so. Such a fraud! It’s just what dad says about all the managers and stars in New York being myths. All those legends about his being a woman hater and--who’s the man who’s supposed to never hire a chorus girl until he’s seen her au naturel? Such piffle!” “But they like being myths,” Gurdy laughed. “Oh, every one does, of course. Some one started a yarn about me--don’t tell dad this--that I was the daughter of some frightfully rich American banker and that my mother was a Spanish dancer. Olive was wild with rage. But it was rather fun.--I say, I’m sick of this, Gurdy. Do make dad order me home.” She lit a cigarette, let her lashes drop and ignored a man who bowed, passing. Gurdy thought this was Cosmo Rand and said so. Margot shrugged. “He rehearses us every day. Decent sort. People like him.--But do make dad have me come home.” Gurdy pondered. Mark now knew a few gentlewomen, the wives of authors and critics. He had mannerly friends outside the theatre, had drilled smart war theatricals. The girl could move beyond this wedge of certainty wherever she chose. But Gurdy said, “You might not like New York.” “But I want to see it! It’s hardly pleasant seeing dad about once every year for two weeks or so. I happen to love him. You mean I shan’t be recognized as a human being by the fat ladies in the Social Register? That’ll hardly break my heart, you know? The world is so full of a number--Is that God save the--” The supping people rose in a vast puff of smoke from abandoned cigarettes. Officers stiffened. The outer orchestra jangled the old tune badly. The sleek gowns showed a ripple of bending knees. The prince went nodding down the room toward an inner door with a tiny clink of bright spurs as his staff followed him. “They say he’s going to the States. I should like to be there to see the women make fools of themselves. And Grandfather’ll be so furious because every one’ll talk about a damned Britisher.--Finish your coffee. I want to dance again.” She danced with a smooth, lazy rhythm and Gurdy felt a brusque jealousy of all the men who danced with her, after him. He was angry because he so soon liked her, against reason. It was folly to let himself be netted by a girl who showed no signs of courting him. He watched her spin, her black skirt spreading, with Cosmo Rand. The man danced gracefully, without swagger. He might be amusing, like many actors. Gurdy pulled his philosophy together and talked about Mark’s plan of the Walling Theatre while they drove home.