The scene was truly intoxicating. Mrs. Holman, the fashionable belle
of society and wife of one of the leading physicians of the city,
was entertaining a brilliant assemblage of the _elite_. The
informal announcement of her grand "at home" had kept society
in a delightful state of anticipation for the past ten days, and
reality was indeed equal to all that could be devised. The grand
drawing-room, furnished with regard to the beautiful in art, was
certainly a fit receptacle for such an array of beauty and grace.
There was the exquisite blonde, with face of angelic purity; next
came the imperial Cleopatras, with their dusky grandeur of style
rivalling that of empresses; and conspicuous among the latter was
Evelyn Verne. Her amber-satin robes revealed the fact that she was
an adept in the art of dress, and spared no pains to display the
beautifully-rounded form and graceful carriage as she whirled
through the mazes of the waltz, with Montague Arnold as partner.
The latter was indeed a handsome man--one that is sure to attract a
fashionable woman. There is a sarcastic expression lurking around
the well-formed mouth, that has not, to the intelligent mind, a
wholesome tendency; but then there is such a dash of style, and an
amount of gay and charming sentiment in every word, that the
resistless Montague Arnold finds himself an important adjunct to
every gathering representing wealth and prestige.
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