ders were uncovered, her hair dressed
more elaborately than that of English girls in general. English
girls--the two innocents in blue, who were nice girls enough, and stood
with their mouths and eyes open in speechless wonder and
admiration--seemed of an entirely different species from this dazzling
creature. She made a momentary pause on the threshold, while all the
beholders held their breath. Montjoie, for one, was struck dumb. His
commonplace countenance changed altogether. He looked at her with his
face growing longer, his jaw dropping. It was more than a sensation, it
was such a climax of excitement and surprise as does not happen above
once or twice in a lifetime. The whole company were moved by similar
feelings, all except the Contessa, lying back in her chair, and Lucy,
who stood rather troubled, moving from one foot to another, clasping and
unclasping her hands. Jock, roused by the murmur, turned round with a
start, and eyed her too with looks of wild astonishment. She stood for a
moment looking at them all--with a smile which was half mischievous,
half appealing--on the threshold, as Bice felt it, not only of Lady
Randolph's drawing-room, but of the world.

Sir Tom had started at the sight of her as much as any one. He had not
been in the secret. He cried out, "By Jove!" like Montjoie. But he had
those instincts which are, perhaps, rather old-fashioned, of protection
and service to women. He belonged to the school which thinks a girl
should not walk across a room without some man's arm to sustain her, or
open a door for herself. He started forward with a little sense of being
to blame, and offered her his arm. "Why didn't you send for me to bring
you in if you were late?" he cried, with a tone in which there was some
tremor and vexation. The effectiveness of her appearance was terrible to
Sir Tom. She looked up at him with a look of pleasure and kindness, and
said, "I was not late," with a smile. She looked taller, more developed
in a single day. But for that little pucker of vexation on Sir Tom's
forehead they would have looked like a father and daughter, the father
proudly bringing his young princess into the circle of her adorers. Bice
swept him towards Lucy, and made a low obeisance to Lady Randolph, and
took her hand and kissed it. "I must come to you first," she said.

"Well?" said the Contessa, turning round to her retainers with a quick
movement. They were all gazing at the _debutante_ so intently th