womanhood was as
yet unborn. Once he contrived, by main force, to drag her out into the
hall.
"George," she said, "perhaps, if you'd let me alone perhaps I'd like you
better."
"Perhaps," he retorted fiercely, "if you wouldn't make a fool of yourself
with those mother's darlings, I'd like you better."
"George," said Honora, "learn to dance."
"Never!" he cried, but she was gone. While hovering around the door he
heard Mrs. Hayden's voice.
"Unless I am tremendously mistaken, my dear," that lady was remarking to
Mrs. Dwyer, whose daughter Emily's future millions were powerless to
compel youths of fourteen to dance with her, although she is now happily
married, "unless I am mistaken, Honora will have a career. The child will
be a raving beauty. And she has to perfection the art of managing men."
"As her father had the art of managing women," said Mrs. Dwyer. "Dear me,
how well I remember Randolph! I would have followed him to--to Cheyenne."
Mrs. Hayden laughed. "He never would have gone to Cheyenne, I imagine,"
she said.
"He never looked at me, and I have reason to be profoundly thankful for
it," said Mrs. Dwyer.
Virginia Hayden bit her lip. She remembered a saying of Mrs. Brice,
"Blessed are the ugly, for they shall not be tempted."
"They say that poor Tom Leffingwell has not yet finished paying his
debts," continued Mrs. Dwyer, "although his uncle, Eleanor Hanbury's
father, cancelled what Randolph had had from him in his will. It was
twenty-five thousand dollars. James Hanbury, you remember, had him
appointed consul at Nice. Randolph Leffingwell gave the impression of
conferring a favour when he borrowed money. I cannot understand why he
married that penniless and empty-headed beauty."
"Perhaps," said Mrs. Hayden, "it was because of his ability to borrow
money that he felt he could afford to."
The eyes of the two ladies unconsciously followed Honora about the room.
"I never knew a better or a more honest woman than Mary Leffingwell, but
I tremble for her. She is utterly incapable of managing that child. If
Honora is a complicated mechanism now, what will she be at twenty? She
has elements in her which poor Mary never dreamed of. I overheard her
with Emily, and she talks like a grown-up person."
Mrs. Hayden's dimples deepened.
"Better than some grown-up women," she said. "She sat in my room while I
dressed the other afternoon. Mrs. Leffingwell had sent her with a note
about that French gov
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