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Bellmer handsome handsome enough to be Nelly's partner?" persisted Ethel, impatient for her gossip to her it's all there is of gayety. "And is Lord Strathay nice?" "Mr. Bellmer's an overgrown cherub with a monocle," I laughed. Ned shall not think me one of those odious, fortune-hunting girls.
Bellmer's aunt; dumpy, diamonded and disagreeable- looking. "But where are the famous beauties?" I asked eagerly. "Won't they dance, even for charity, except in their own houses?" Some of them were there; tall, pale, stylish girls, or women whose darkened eyes and faces mealy with powder told of a bitter fight with time. Why, I haven't seen a woman whom I thought beautiful since since I became so.
At any other time the news would have been a fresh calamity for how can I pay them, or how get rid of them without paying? But with the memory of that awful scene in my head, I could think of nothing else. I don't know what I said in reply. Bellmer's insult has stayed with me and haunted me. I had bearded a theatrical manager in his den and had been received with kindness and courtesy.
Terry, I pinned Bellmer's boutonniere with unnecessary graciousness, and smiled at her while he sniffed it with beatitude beaming from his moony face. "Awf'ly slow things, teas," he said regretfully, as she bore him off'; "awf'ly slow, don't you think?" Really the man's little better than a downright fool; if he were poor, no one would waste a better word upon him.
Terry said Hughy Bellmer's aunt at the last of her frightful luncheon concerts, where you eat two hours in a jungle of palms and orchids, and groan to music two hours more in indigestion. 'A lovely girl, my dear Mrs. Van Dam, she said; 'a privilege to know her. Pity that so many of our best people fight shy of a protegee of the newspapers. That from Mrs. Terry, with her hair and her hats "
I'd like it myself, but I'm too well, after all, I might do; I'm at least picturesquely ugly." And so the antiphony of discouragement ended in a laugh. I wonder women on the stage do get big sums, and they often graduate from it to society. If even a music hall singer can become a duchess Bellmer's father made his money in sugar, they say. If I had it, I could storm any position. I suppose Mrs.
The proudest hour of Hughy Bellmer's life was when the march started, and he walked beside Helen same parade as always through that wide hall between the Astor gallery and the big ball room; committeemen and patronesses at the head and the line tailing. You may believe the plumes drooped and the war paint trickled. Nelly was the only girl looked at. Milly, you should have been there? Headache?
It may have been the wine I overheard two young cads making free of my house to discuss my affairs. "Mrs. Terry really dragged Hughy out of town?" one of them asked, assuming a familiarity with Bellmer that I suspect he cannot claim. "Guess so; he's playing horse with old Bellmer's money; always wrong side of the betting." "Needs Keeley cure. Good natured cuss; wonder if the Winship'll get him."
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