"Yet she never seems to do anything," reflects Violet.
"To do would be vulgar and would not fascinate well-bred people. It is in her eyes, in her voice, in the very atmosphere about her, and she is wonderfully beautiful. She isn't the spider, she does not spin a net, but she looks at the mouse out of great, soft eyes, and he comes nearer, nearer, and she plays with him, until he is dull and maimed and tiresome, when she gently pushes him away, and is done with him."
Violet shivers. How strange that Mr. Floyd Grandon should not have yielded to her fascination!
"There, let her go," says Eugene, loftily. "And since I don't care to see her to-night, nor the two cream-and-sugar Dyckman girls, nor—anybody, we will stay at home."
Violet makes no further protest. Cecil is sleepy, and begs to go to bed, so Violet plays and sings, and they talk out on the porch in the soft summer night. Eugene indulges in some romantic views, slipping now and then into affected cynicism, out of which Violet gently draws him. He is so much nicer than she used to think him. And, indeed, now that Marcia is gone, there is none of that shameful bickering. She almost wishes Mrs. Grandon mère could remain away indefinitely; they would all be quietly happy.
At the Dyckmans' they discuss the Grandon defection. Laura Dyckman thinks Eugene Grandon such a "divine dancer," and to-night young men are at a premium, though there are some distinguished older ones who do not dance.
The next morning Marcia passes Violet and Eugene driving leisurely along. They have had a charming call at the Latimers', and Violet's face is bright and full of vivacity. She bows to them with the utmost dignity, and goes on her way to madame's, whom she finally beguiles out in her pony carriage.
Madame has been extremely complimentary about the garden party, the freshness and unique manner in which it was arranged, and the pretty serving. She heard it again at the Dyckmans', and is now far up the pinnacle of self-complacency.
"I met Eugene and Floyd's wife dawdling along on the road," says Marcia, presently. "I meant to call and see why he was not out last night, but I suppose he had to stay at home and comfort her. I do hope Eugene isn't going to make a dolt of himself, and I am sure Violet is as fond of admiration as any one. She was always hanging after the professor until he was positively engaged to Gertrude."
"I think Mr. Floyd Grandon is very fond of having his wife admired," says madame, in her sweet, suave tone. "She is such a mere child, after all, and fond of attention. And the sad death of her father, with her mourning, has rather kept her in the background until recently."