“Do men always grow tired of us?” asked Launa, “even if or when they love us?”
“Not always tired, but secure. If they were merely tired, they would let us alone. They cease to desire to please us; we belong to them. Ah, my dear, love! do men love us? Yes, they love us, but do they love one woman?”
“I must go to bed,” said Lily Phillips. “I shall not kiss you. Women should never kiss each other. Good-night.”
“That Carden man will want to marry you, Launa. Beware of them both. He is a worm, and has awful legs!”
A few nights after this, Mrs. Phillips took Launa to a ball given by some bachelors—eligible, delightful young men—whose reputation for wickedness was wholly obliterated by their fortunes or the want thereof.
Captain Carden was there. He had procured his invitation with great difficulty. The mother of one bachelor had cause for gratitude towards him. Her son was in his regiment, and when his reputation promised to become inconveniently large, Captain Carden for once used his wits, saved him from the consequences thereof, and the family felt they owed Captain Carden something. Mrs. Carden rejoiced. She thanked Providence for having delivered the sons of the enemy into her hand, and piously glanced at the ceiling (where a brass chandelier hung, symbolic of the worship of light, also brass) when Charlie related his success. He disliked Mrs. Phillips. She circumvented him by introducing several men to Launa before Captain Carden could demand more dances than he had a right to expect. But then she could give him only two.
“Mr. George will amuse you, dear,” said Mrs. Phillips to Launa. “He is clever, and will tell you about his books.”
Mr. George appeared young, and looked not more than two-and-twenty. He was tall, with a pink and white skin, yellow hair, and an infantile smile. He seemed to have vacated the pinafores of the nursery only the day before; but this was not the case, for he had really left them long ago, and he was thirty years old. He told Miss Archer he was writing a book.
“About Beginnings,” he replied; “they are so neglected. Everyone writes about Pasts and Probable Futures, but Beginnings are so interesting. The first love-making is a joy, afterwards it palls. The Beginning—the doubt of how she will take it, and how one can make it—is rapture.”