Wichita eagle., 1890-01-15
WISE IN HER TIME.

l.
1t was a charming party at Mrs. W ester
ieighis; good floor, good band and re-
spectacle set of people l wore my new gown
from Russell g. Allen's-no debutante foam
of tulle or net, but a really handsome confec-
ton in white corded silk, the sort of thing
which exactly suits my style, nature never
having cut me out for the part of jeune file
We arrived little late, but a great many
people seemed to have room for my name on
their programmes; indeed, throughout the
evening l enjoyed the rather novel sensation
of ball room success. Not that set much
value on such bit of social gilt gingerbread.
All very well for boys and girls in their first
season, but by no means fitted TO satisfy the
appetite of persons arrived at years Of dis
erection.
The dancing had stopped when we got into
the room, and l stood for a few moments in
the doorway making up nv book for the
events Of the night Regy Walker was ne
gotiating with me for the supper Dances
when the Stands were announced. looked
up, without moving hair, and saw them
within a yard Of me-Philip and Philips wife.
The halter observed to be slight and pale;
not ugly, of course, for in these days even
heiresses cannot afford to be ugly, but gener-
ally Insignificant. But her maid, her tailor
and her corset maker are evidently the best
Of their kind.
don't know how long Regy Walker and /
stood there adjusting our ball cards; perhaps
q minute, perhaps a hundred years. Then
the room went round suddenly, and l found
myself shaking hands with Philip.
Our eyes met; he smiled his wonderful
smile. 1t might almost have been last year.
But 10 can never be last year again.
Last yesr, Philip, you were hard work
ing, ambitious young man, of whom great
things were already prophesied at the bar;
this year you are a person of Importance
your fortune made, your position assured.
Last year ! was one ideaed young person in
n white frock, who blushed and smiled with
undisguised delight when her friend ap-
preached her; who had smiles and bushes
for no one else; whose days were full of
vague, delicious happiness; whose wakeful
nights were sweeter than nights Of dreams.
This year ] am a woman who knows her
weakness, knows also her strength, and has
had her experience.
1t is the third day, and have risen again.
Without knowledge of life there can be no
true enjoyment OF life Life, l maintain, in
the face of the sentimentaiists TO be an ac
quired taste. For the educated palate there
are all sorts of gustatory sur priseS-olives,
cayisre, host of sauces-far more delicious
than, if not quite so wholesome as, the roast
meat and boiled pudding of domesticity.
You were right, Philip; and |, who once be-
lieved myself your victim, crushed beneath
the JuggernaUt car of your ambition-l was
wrong.
Meanwhile, have left us-Philip Shand
and Virginia Notwithstanding hands with
one another, and smiling into one another's
faces with almost exaggerated amiabllty.
''Am / too late for a waltz
"Thsre Is only No. IL left"
"a quadrillel I ask for bread, and you
give me stone"
l wrote down his initials on my card, and
he made of, smiling brilliantly.
| stood looking after him with a curious
sense of unFeality, divided between desire
TO laugh aloud, and another-to go from the
house, to some vague, impossible region Of
darkness and silence and solitude At the
same moment grew aware of pair of wide
open gray eyes fixed upon myself with I'M
conventional fntentness from the distance.
Their owner was a tall, fair, weedy young
man whose whole appearance was indefinably
different from that of our surrounding peo-
pie. 1t was not hong before Mrs. Wester-
leigh swept up to me with this unknown
young man in her wake
''Sir Guy Ormond-Miss Warwick"
We both bowed and he asked me for a
dance, with a fervor quite disproportionate
10 the request.
"Some poor little waif of a swellI" was
my reflection as he wrote his name against
the twelfth waltz-the only unclaimed dance
on my card
For il must be owned that Wa were that
night distinctly middle class gathering,
great mixed mob of Londoners: no mere
Belgravian birds of passage, but people
whose interests and avocations lay well
within the great city.
May take you in to supper later on?'
said Sir Guy earnestly.
Yes, please" l answered, giving him
glance almost as serious as his own. Ger
tainly, there is no game so amusing as that
which Philip taught me to play last year.
At the opening of the eleventh dance Philip
came to me.
You don't want to dance this thingF'
He lowered his voice to the old confidential
pitch; but his manner was q shade less con-
tident than of old. After all, why not!
hated quadrilleS, and ! ike to talk with
Philip.
IF you viii allow me-" he said, as we
strolled Off to the conservatory, Il viii In
troduce you TO my wife.
And then found myself bowling and sInil-
ing to colorless person, who bowed and