"But didn't they bring any letters?" asked Ruyler. "They are ladies and
one letter would have done the business. That poor girl is having the
deuce of a time."
"D.V.," who knew "everybody" in California, and all their secrets, shook
his head. "'Fraid not. The French maid told the floor valet that although
the father was American--from New England somewheres--and the girl born
in California, accidentally as it were, she had lived in France all her
life--she's just eighteen--never crossed the ocean before. Can you beat
it? Until last month, and then they came from Hong Kong--taking a trip
round the world in good old style. The madame, who scarcely opens her
month, did condescend to tell me that she had admired California very
much when she was here before, and intended to travel all over the state.
Perhaps I met her in that far off long ago, for I was managing a hotel in
San Francisco about that time, and her face haunts me somehow--although
when features get all swallowed up by fat like that you can't locate
them. The girl, too, reminds me of some one, but of course she was in
arms when she left and as I ain't much on cathedrals I never went to
Rouen. Of course it's the old trick, bringing a pretty girl to a
fashionable watering place to marry her off, but these folks are not
poor. Not what we'd call rich, perhaps, but good and solid. I don't fall
for the old lady; she's a cool proposition or I miss my guess, but the
girl's all right. I've seen too many girls in this Mecca for adventurous
females and never made a mistake yet. I wish some of our grand dames
would extend the glad hand. But I'm afraid they won't. Terrible
exclusive, this bunch."
Ruyler scowled and walked back to the ballroom. The exclusiveness of this
young society on the wrong side of the continent sometimes made him
homesick and sometimes made him sick. He saw little chance for this poor
girl to enjoy the rights of her radiant youth if her mother had not taken
the precaution to bring letters. France was full of Californians. Many
lived there. Surely she must have met some one she could have made use
of. It was tragic to watch a pathetic young thing staring at two or three
hundred young men and maidens disporting themselves with the natural
hilarity of youth, and but few of them too ill-natured to welcome a young
and lovely stranger if properly introduced.
He experienced a desperate impulse to go up to the mother and offer
her the hospitality of the evening, ask her to regard him as her host.
But Madame Delano had a frozen eye, and no doubt orthodox French ideas
on the subject of young girls. A moment later his eye fell on Mrs.
Ford Thornton.