A grand ball will set you right with society,
and that is the one thing needful. Tea and coffee, my dear Romayne,
in your study; Coote's quadrille band; the supper from Gunter's, the
grounds illuminated with colored lamps; Tyrolese singers among the
trees, relieved by military music--and, if there _are_ any African or
other savages now in London, there is room enough in these charming
grounds for encampments, dances, squaws, scalps, and all the rest of it,
to end in a blaze of fireworks."
A sudden fit of coughing seized her, and stopped the further enumeration
of attractions at the contemplated ball. Stella had observed that her
mother looked unusually worn and haggard, through the disguises of paint
and powder. This was not an uncommon result of Mrs. Eyrecourt's devotion
to the demands of society; but the cough was something new, as a symptom
of exhaustion.
"I am afraid, mamma, you have been overexerting yourself," said Stella.
"You go to too many parties."
"Nothing of the sort, my dear; I am as strong as a horse. The other
night, I was waiting for the carriage in a draught (one of the most
perfect private concerts of the season, ending with a delightfully
naughty little French play)--and I caught a slight cold.
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