"There was never more than a
sort of understanding. A _mariage de convenance_ on both sides, if it
ever came off. I _am_ fond of Del, too. But he was South, and the other
came like a whirlwind, and I'm--I'm queer about some things," she went
on half shamefacedly. "I suppose I'm awfully susceptible to physical
impressions. Are all girls that way? Or is that gross and--and
underbred?"
"It's part of us, I expect; but we're not all so honest with ourselves.
So you decided to throw over Mr. Eyre and marry your Briton."
"Well--yes. The new British Ambassador, who arrives from Japan next
week, is Carty's uncle, and we were going to make him stage-manage the
wedding, you see. A sort of officially certified elopement."
"More advertisement!" said Miss Van Arsdale coldly. "Really, Miss
Welland, if marriage seems to you nothing more than an opportunity to
create a newspaper sensation I cannot congratulate you on your
prospects."
This time her tone stung. Io Welland's eyes became sullen. But her voice
was almost caressingly amiable as she said:
"Tastes differ. It is, I believe, possible to create a sensation in New
York society without any newspaper publicity, and without at all meaning
or wishing to. At least, it was, fifteen years ago; so I'm told.
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