Olive Bascom had soft blue eyes
and abundant brown hair, and Sibyl Thorndyke had learned to hold her long
black eyes half closed, and had the black hair and rich complexion of a
Creole great-grandmother. Alexina was admittedly the "beauty of the bunch."
Nevertheless, Miss Lawton had informed her doting parent before this, her
first season, was half over, that she was _vivid_ enough to hold her own
with the best of them. The boys said she was a live wire and she preferred
that high specialization to the tameness of mere beauty.
IV
Said Alexina: "Sibyl, what are you going to do with your young life? Shall
you marry an English duke or a New York millionaire?"
But Miss Thorndyke smiled mysteriously. She was not as frank as the other
girls, although by no means as opaque as she imagined.
Aileen laughed. "Oh, don't ask her. Doubt if she knows. To-day she's all
for being intellectual and reading those damn dull Russian novelists.
To-morrow she may be setting up as an odalisque. It would suit her style
better."
Miss Thorndyke's face was also crimson from the heat, but she would not
have flushed had it been the day before. She was not subject to sudden
reflexes.
"Your satire is always a bit clumsy, dear," she said sweetly. "The
odalisque is not your role at all events."
"I don't go in for roles."
And the four girls wrangled and dreamed and planned, while a city burnt
beneath them; some three hundred million dollars flamed out, lives were
ruined, exterminated, altered; and Labor sat on the hills and smiled
cynically at the tremendous impetus the earth had handed them on that
morning of April eighteenth, nineteen hundred and six.
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