“That’s just what your Aunt Emily says—only she means it differently. That you’ll meet your death in the air.”
Linda laughed, and she and Dot hastened to join Mr. Von Goss, who was waiting for them at the foot of the marble staircase.
“I sort of feel as if we were butting in,” whispered Linda. “Do I look terribly countrified—or small-townish?”
“My dear, you’re as pretty as any star here, and lots prettier than some,” replied Dot, reassuringly.
“Well, you surely look sweet in that peach chiffon, Dot. You look like Paris itself.”
“Of course I do!” laughed the other girl. “I’m not going to have any inferiority complex. And don’t you, either, Linda!”
Taking them into his charge, Mr. Von Goss led the girls about the luxurious rooms, introducing Linda to everybody as the most famous girl flier in the world. It was evident from his manner that he was entirely convinced that she was the real Linda.
The effect of the reception as a whole was startling, overpowering. Linda felt almost as if she wanted to gasp for breath, so overcome was she by the brilliancy of it all. It was only when she met Ann Harding, her favorite actress, that she really felt at home.
Miss Harding was amazingly beautiful—far lovelier than she seemed on the screen, if such a thing were possible. Her rich, low voice was charming, her complexion perfect, her golden hair like the pictures of a fairy queen. Yet there was something sad in her beautiful brown eyes. She and her husband had recently parted.
“Oh, I am so thrilled to meet you, Linda Carlton!” she said, holding Linda’s hand in hers. “I am only an amateur flier, but I love it so. And I have read about every single thing you have ever done.”