"Let's stop here for a moment and watch," said Alexina. "It's too
interesting. They look as if they'd eat her alive."
The whole company seemed to be seething about Gora, and as they were
rapidly presented by Miss Halsey and passed on they produced the effect,
in the inner circles, of a maelstrom. On the outer edge the women frankly
stood on chairs to get a better look at the new lion, or pushed forward
with frenzied determination to the fixed center of the whirlpool, whose
gracious smile was becoming strained.
"Poor Gora!" said Aileen. "We do it better. A few picked souls at a time;
or, even when it's a tea, just casual introductions at decent intervals,
and not too many references to the immortal work."
"It's simply great for Gora, anyhow; for, big or little, they're her own
sort. And they're not snobs, They don't care tuppence for us."
"You're right there. I went to a big reception of all the arts in Paris
once and the only people any one kowtowed to were two disgustingly rich
New York women who had never done anything. But no one can be blamed for
national characteristics. Heavens! What an olla podrida!"
Some of the men were in evening dress, but the greater number were not.
They were of all ages, shaves, neckties and haircuts. The women wore every
variety of hat, from an immense sailor perched above an immense fat face,
above an immense shirtwaist bust, to minute turbans and waving plumes.
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