It was nearly nine o’clock, the hour set for the reception to begin. The lounge was crowded and carriages were every moment setting down fresh parties of people at the door. All the wealth of Ind as well as Afric seemed to be arriving. The place absolutely glittered with jewels. Even at that Loraine Loree created something of a sensation as she came down the broad stairway. At first men thought she was some lissom sprite of spring arriving, decorated with the dewdrops of dawn. Then it was seen as she came among them that they had made a mistake. This was a beautiful woman of the world, wearing a Paris gown and diamonds so sumptuous that they put every one else’s into the shade.
Valeria Cork was one of the few people who appeared undisturbed by the glory of Mrs Temple, though she, like every one else, saw the vision and made a signal to it, to indicate her whereabouts: and Loree, a little nervous in all that crowd of staring strangers, yet moving proudly, with elation in her veins found her way to her friend’s side. Valeria introduced two men with whom she was talking. Loree was much relieved to see no sign of Quelch. One of the first things she noticed was that Mrs Cork had not got on her Brazilian diamond. This might be accidental of course, but it was strange upon an occasion when every one else was bedecked. Valeria on her part gave only a passing glance at Loree’s diamonds.
“How beautiful your jewels are!” she said carelessly, “and your gown too. You are creating quite a stir.” Then she went on talking to one of the men, leaving the other to entertain Loree, which he certainly did, being a young South African who knew everybody and reverenced nobody... especially Kimberley Nobodies. He himself was Kimberley born, but Harrow and Cambridge had bred in him a fine intolerance for the men who were merely millionaires. As for the millionaires’ wives—
“Isn’t it amazing,” he said looking at Loree with frankly admiring eyes, “that one hardly ever sees the right women with jewels? Why should a little blue-faced monkey of a woman go about with a thousand pounds glittering in each ear and a few more thousand pounds’ worth drawing attention to her accordion-pleated throat? I tell you it makes me lose my reverence for age.”
Loree doubted whether he had ever possessed any, but she laughed, because she was young and so was he; in fact he was still at Cambridge undergrad, being only out on a visit to his people during the long Vac.
“As for a fat woman wearing diamonds—” continued this hopeful youth, “I’d rather see a beautiful medallion stuck in a porker’s back.”
These wise and witty reflections were interrupted by a stir in the crowd and a general movement in the direction of the two great doors which were now flung open. The Royal party had arrived by a private way and taken up their position in the ballroom. The file through, to be announced and presented, now began, and Loree and Mrs Cork detached themselves from their friends with a promise to meet them later when the dancing commenced.
A rather magnificent arrangement of scarlet and gold—half platform, half dais—had been set up at one end of the ballroom. But the Duke and Duchess were standing well away from it and chatting and shaking hands with their guests and behaving exactly like ordinary mortals. They did not interest Loree very much—just an elderly well-bred looking English gentleman and his pleasant-faced wife—but she looked eagerly as she drew near, at the Princess Evelyn. Yes, she was certainly lovely. A fine clear English skin and delicately curved patrician features. She wore a wonderful gown of faint mauve draperies, and her eyes which had a singularly pure expression appeared to be of the same haunting colour. People said she might have been a queen if she had chosen, and that more than one monarch had begged for her hand. But she had simple ideals, this royal girl—simple yet very high. She would only marry where she loved. And the world was amazed, and speculated a good deal as to what would happen if she fell in love with a mere commoner. In the meantime there seemed to be a little sadness in the sweet mauve eyes. Loree Temple thought so at least as she made her curtsey and passed on.
There was still no sign of Quelch, and Loree felt alternately relieved and elated by the fact. She knew she was looking her best and it seemed a pity he should miss a sight that would give him so much pleasure. On the other hand it was undeniably safer, not to say cooler, without him hovering like a hawk over her every movement. Mrs Cork had introduced several pleasant people and she did not find time hanging on her hands at all. Only one thing worried her a little. A very striking-looking woman was paying her a good deal of attention and seemed to be constantly striving to approach her. As the room was crowded this was rather difficult, and Loree made it even more so for she had a feminine reason for not wishing the lady to approach too closely.