Miss Spicer seized upon young Lambert in her usual abrupt fashion.
“Come!” she said, “madame has no need of us, she has become a fixed star, and I’m tired to death of revolving. Mrs. Carter has got to introduce me to the great genius. Everybody says he is so charming, so distinguished and inaccessible—none of the girls can get a smile from him; but I shall, you may bet high on that!”
Ivon suffered himself to be dragged back to the great drawing-room; for he hoped now to speak with Eva; but just as he reached the place where she had been standing, Ross led her into the crowd. Miss Spicer saw her intended prey move off, and began to reproach Ivon.
“There he goes! and that creature on his arm! I wonder if he wants a shawl tried on. Such innovations! As if the Carters hadn’t enough of a pull to get themselves into society, but they must attempt to empty Broadway of its shop-girls!”
By this time Miss Spicer was near the hostess, whom she addressed with vigor.
“Mrs. Carter, I have got such a quarrel with you. When am I to be introduced to that brother of yours? Can’t you see that I’m half in love with him already; a dozen of us quarreling which shall be first—genius is so uncommon and so enticing. Is it true, Mrs. Carter, that you mean to give him lots of money? People say so; but that’s of no consequence to such of us as can afford to do as we please—for genius, after all, isn’t half so common as money. But when am I to be introduced?”
“Oh!” said Mrs. Carter, delighted. “If you had only come a minute sooner! He just went away with Miss Laurence.”
“Oh, yes! I saw it. That shop-girl—I beg ten thousand pardons! but truth is truth—has carried him off! Now tell me, how did she happen to get here? Lots of us girls are dying to know.”
Mrs. Carter drew herself up with some degree of dignity.
“If you speak of Miss Laurence,” she said, “her father was my brother’s old friend.”