It was almost like--and she thrilled as she
thought it--a gasp for breath.
She strove hard to support herself with these memories, out even as she
considered them her mind passed on to the reception, and that stupid
ache supervened once more. Instantly her focus narrowed down. There
were only two figures in it. The rest merely provided a setting for
these two. All the lights, the decorations, the beautiful costumes and
smiling faces, these became an indistinct blurr, leaving the image of
Mrs. Elvine van Blooren and a man standing vividly out.
What a wonderful, wonderful picture of radiant womanhood Mrs. Van
Blooren had made! Even in her trouble Nan was generous. The woman was
beautiful in a way that poor Nan had only dreamed of. The Madonna-like
features, calm, perfect. The dark hair, superb in the simplicity of
its dressing. She remembered that at the first glance it had suggested
to her the sheen of a cloudless summer night. And her gown, and her
figure. The gown must have cost--ah, Nan could not appraise its cost.
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