"Georgie! As if it isn't a real joy to me to have you," says Clarissa, reproachfully. "I can't bear going anywhere by myself, and Mrs. Grey always insists on taking Cissy."
"Well, she is very kind, you know," says Cissy, with some regret. "But I do so wish she would let me go with you. However, mamma would not like me to refuse her, and, after all, I shall meet you both in the room. I wish we could manage to arrive just at the same moment."
"Well, I'll settle that with Mrs. Grey," says Clarissa. "Dorian will get me a ticket for Georgie."
"Who is Dorian?" asks Georgie, idly. Literally, she cares nothing about him, regarding him in this instance as merely a means to an end,—a person who can obtain for her an entrance into a desired haven. She has, indeed, forgotten that once before she asked this same question and received her answer.
"Why, I told you," says Clarissa. "He is Lord Sartoris's nephew,—the tall handsome young man who spoke to me at the concert."
"I didn't see him. When is this ball to be?"
"On the 5th. And now, about your dresses?"
"Mine goes without telling," says Cissy, in a resigned tone. "The whole county knows it by heart by this time. After all, there is a sort of comfort in everything, even in one's misfortune. Now, all my young men won't have the trouble of looking for me, they will know me directly, the instant their eyes light upon my gown, which is fast becoming an heirloom."
"If it is the gown you wore the other night at the Bellews', you look very sweet in it," says Clarissa, looking very sweet herself as she utters this comforting speech.
"You are an angel, you know," says Cissy, with a merry little laugh. "You see everybody through rose-colored spectacles."