"Family life—all in the day's work!" she repeated to herself with a trembling lip. "Well, I don't mean to have a lifetime of days like this."
Then she went upstairs to her own room and wrote Cornelia Covert a note of acceptance.
CHAPTER FOUR
I
"There, isn't she sweet?" said Cornelia to Robert, as she put the last touch to a pomegranate sash.
She was referring to Janet, whom she had costumed with all her artistic cunning as a sort of gypsy Carmen. The night of the Outlaws' ball was at hand; and Cornelia's flat, number fifteen of the Lorillard model tenements, was the rendezvous for several of the maskers.
"Isn't she beautiful?" insisted Cornelia, pitching her languid voice high. She pointed proudly to her handiwork (rather than to its wearer), for she was determined to have it admired by all who stood near.
"She is charming, and her voice is beautiful," said Robert, in cool dispassionate appraisal.
"No one ever called my voice beautiful before!" said Janet, with unfeigned delight, in spite of the scientific detachment of Robert's tone.
"I shall make you conscious of all your attractions, if you'll give me time," added Robert, with much more fervor than before.