Isn't that so, my Lord?
But what Lord Grenville thought of this matter, or to what
reflections this comely tirade of Lady Portarles led the Comtesse de
Tournay, remained unspoken, for the curtain had just risen on the
third act of ORPHEUS, and admonishments to silence came from every
part of the house.
Lord Grenville took a hasty farewell of the ladies and slipped
back into his box, where M. Chauvelin had sat through this
ENTR'ACTE, with his eternal snuff-box in his hand, and with his keen
pale eyes intently fixed upon a box opposite him, where, with much
frou-frou of silken skirts, much laughter and general stir of
curiosity amongst the audience, Marguerite Blakeney had just entered,
accompanied by her husband, and looking divinely pretty beneath the
wealth of her golden, reddish curls, slightly besprinkled with powder,
and tied back at the nape of her graceful neck with a gigantic black
bow. Always dressed in the very latest vagary of fashion, Marguerite
alone among the ladies that night had discarded the crossover fichu
and broad-lapelled over-dress, which had been in fashion for the last
two or three years.
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