By a method of protection peculiarly her own, she
had managed to achieve an isolation as complete as an alpine blossom in
the heart of an iceberg. But in the heat and enthusiasm of a successful
try-out, when everybody was effervescing with excitement, it was
increasingly difficult to maintain this air of cold detachment.
Papa Claude alone was sufficient to warm any atmosphere. He radiated
happiness. Every afternoon, arrayed in white flannels and a soft white
hat, with a white rose in his buttonhole, he rode in his chair on the
boardwalk, bowing to right and to left with the air of a sovereign
graciously acknowledging his subjects. Night found him in the
proscenium-box at the theater, beaming upon the audience, except when he
turned vociferously to applaud Eleanor's exits and entrances.
The entire week of the first performance was nothing short of
pandemonium. Mr. Pfingst had brought a large party down from New York on
his yacht, and between rehearsals and performances there was an endless
round of suppers and dinners and sailing-parties.
With the arrival of Sunday morning Eleanor was in a state of physical and
emotional exhaustion. She was sitting before her dressing-table in a
sleeveless pink negligee, with her hair dangling in two thick childish
braids over her shoulder, when Papa Claude dashed in from the next room
to announce that Mr.
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