The life of these
people seemed to Evelyn artificial as that of white mice, coming in
by certain doors, going out by others, climbing poles, engaged in
all kinds of little tricks; yet she was delighted to find herself
among them all again, for her life had been dull and tedious since
she left the convent; and this sudden change, taking her back to art
and to her old friends, was very welcome; and the babble of all
these people about her inveigled her out of her new self; and she
liked to hear about so many people, their adventures, their ideas,
misfortunes, precocious caprices.
The company had broken up into groups, and one little group, of which
Evelyn was part, had withdrawn into a corner to discuss its own
circle of friends; and all the while Evelyn's face smiled, her eyes
and her lips and her thoughts were atingle. Nonsense! Yes, it was
nonsense! But what delicious nonsense! and she waited for somebody
to speak of Canary--the "love machine," as he was called. No sooner
had the thought come into her mind than somebody mentioned his name,
telling how Beatrice, after sending him away in the luggage-cart, had
yielded and taken him back again. "He is her interest," Evelyn said
to herself, and she heard that Canary still continued to cause
Beatrice great unhappiness; and some interesting stories were told
of her quarrels--all her quarrels were connected with Canary.
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