“What?” laughed the other, gaily. “With my red eyes and red hair? A century could not extinguish me!”
She passed on, and discovered that van Tuiver was following her. “You aren’t going, are you, Miss Castleman?” he asked; and while he was begging her to stay, Sylvia saw her hostess move across the room to Dorothy Cortlandt. These two stood conversing earnestly, and one glance was enough to tell Sylvia what they were conversing about.
All this was a sore temptation, but Sylvia was in a virtuous mood. “Mr. van Tuiver,” she said, “there is something I want to say to you. I’ve thought it over, and made up my mind that it is impossible for me to be the friend you want.”
“Why, Miss Castleman!” he exclaimed, in distress. “What is the matter?”
“I can’t explain——”
“But what have I done?”
“It’s nothing that you’ve done. It’s simply that I couldn’t stand the world you live in. Oh, I’d be a dreadful woman if I stayed very long!”
“Please, listen—” he implored.
But she cut him short. “I am sorry to give you pain, but I have made up my mind absolutely. There is no possible way I can help you. I am not willing to see you again, and you must positively not ask it.” After which speech she went to look for her cousin, leaving van Tuiver such a picture of agitation that everyone in the room observed it. Could the King’s nose be broken too?