Bella. Yes, I will say without boasting, so to speak, I don't believe there's a soul in New York who can make hair go further and wear less, than
me! [Laughs heartily.] What's this room? Of course it's one of them Louis, I suppose, ain't it? [Looks around the room.] Let me see, is it Louis Eleventimes? I saw Henry Irving in that, it was fine!
Georgiana. No, Bella, Henry Irving has never been in this room, and it's Louis XVI.
Bella. Oh, of course! [Writing.] How well you're looking, Miss Georgiana. Look to me kinder as if you thought good news was in the wind!
[She glances at her surreptitiously, but down again quickly, frightened.
Georgiana. Why, Bella?
Bella. Oh, that's just my idea, that's all. What might this picture be? Shall we say—er—er—Michael Ange?
Georgiana. [Suppressing a smile.] No, that
is a Van Dyck.
Bella. Of course! I might have known! [Writing.] This entire room is a fine bit, ain't it? All Louis—[She looks back in her book.] 16, as a piece, I suppose?