‘See!’ said she; ‘I think a wreath of these might look well.’
Theodora trusted the blush had been the work of her own guilty fancy, and, recollecting how often Mrs. Nesbit’s innuendoes had glanced aside, thought it best not to revive the subject. She did not estimate even the sacrifice it was to part with the glowing fragrant flowers, the arrangement of which had freshened Violet’s spirits that evening when not in tune for other occupation; and she did not know that there was one little sigh of fellow-feeling at their destiny of drooping and fading in the crowd and glare. Their brilliant hues had great success, and set off the deep black eyes and hair to unusual advantage when woven by those dexterous fingers. The toilette was complete, and Theodora as kind as she could be, between shame at her own speech and dislike to being softened by little female arts.
‘I only wish you looked better yourself,’ she said. ‘You are too pale for that old white dress.’
‘It is the coolest I have ready. It must do.’
Theodora could not accuse her of over-carefulness of her renown as a beauty. Her dress was, of course, appropriate, but aimed at no more; and her worn, languid appearance did not cause her a moment’s thought, since Arthur was not there to see.
They found the room very warm and crowded. Theodora saw Violet lodged on an ottoman, and then strayed away to her own friends. Mrs. Finch soon arrived, and attacked her for having let them go on a fool’s errand.
‘I could not help it,’ said Theodora; ‘she would come.’
‘She looks very unwell,’ said Mrs. Finch; ‘but, poor thing, it would be too hard to miss everything this year.’
‘Or does she come as your trusty knight’s deputy?’ asked Jane.
There was dancing; but when Captain Fitzhugh brought Theodora back to her seat, Violet whispered, ‘I am sorry, but would you dislike coming home now?’