"They ought to be," replied Grace indifferently. "They cost enough."
"Forty thousand, didn't you say?"
"I think that's what dad paid."
"Lucky girl! They might be glass for all you seem to care."
Grace made a gesture of impatience as she answered:
"What good are they? Merely pretty gewgaws. Their value means nothing to me. I'm sick of hearing what things cost. They won't bring me what I want most."
"What's that—a husband?" smiled Mrs. Stuart.
"Yes," replied Grace petulantly. "A husband—a man I could respect enough to want to marry. I lose patience with all these animated monkeys that dangle after me. I want a real man."
"Not very kind to the count after he's been so attentive to you all the evening," replied Mrs. Stuart, elevating her eyebrows. "No wonder you're tired, after dancing every single dance. I should be dead in your place. It's all very well to be the belle of the ball, but it's wearing on the nerves. I'm satisfied to play wallflower and talk to the second officer. You've no idea how perfectly fascinating he is. His gold braid and buttons are too cute for anything! What was the count breathing down your neck?"
"Oh, a lot of foolishness!" laughed Grace.