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Updated: June 7, 2025
Alexina smiled as she recalled Olive de Morsigny's lament over the absence of her tiara. European women of society take their jewels very seriously, and there was not a Frenchwoman present who did not possess a tiara, however old-fashioned. But the cold luminosity of jewels would have been extinguished to-night under this really terrific down-pour of light.
The spirit of adventure was awake in her, now that the dark mood had passed, or slept. She hoped to meet the man of the embassy again, whether he were Gathbroke or another. She had liked his eyes. She had met many charming and interesting men during the last two and a half years at Olive de Morsigny's table, especially when Andre, convalescent, was at home.
Again Gora threw her an amused glance. "You must have met many of them at your friend, Madame de Morsigny's, and under far more attractive conditions than any man can hope for in a sick bed....I can't imagine any more appropriate destiny for you...you should be Madame la duchesse at the very least."
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