"God help me, I'm lost. I dare not approach that angel in disguise,
else I would ask her what is meant by that Charity."
These words were muttered by Montague Arnold, who having been unable
to attend his wife to the ball, had now returned in a state of
intoxication.
Had Marguerite listened she might have heard the words repeated; but
she had dropped off into a quiet slumber and lay unconscious of the
semi-brutal state of her dissipated brother-in-law.
The next morning brought invitations for private theatricals at the
house of a distinguished foreign embassy.
The spacious mansion in St. James' Court received the grandees of
every land. It was a high honor to enter "Rosemere Place."
Mrs. Verne was almost beside herself (to use a vulgarism). She
walked on air, as it were, and could talk of nothing else but the
elegance and grandeur in prospect.
"I have accepted Mr. Tracy as escort, mamma," said Mrs. Arnold,
entering her drawing room with an elegant dress that had just
arrived from the _modiste_.
"Now, Evelyn, have you not been a little premature? Would it not
have been better to wait, for I think that Sir Arthur would in all
probability have called to offer his service to Madge.
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