Of course, the crowd is pretty vulgar. That notorious Sartoris woman is here, right after that dreadful scandal with Sid Hawthorne too.
I didn't know that there was a dreadful scandal, Mary remarked quietly.
Why, Sergia Sawyer . . .
Well, of course . . . Where is Mrs. Sartoris? Mary demanded.
I don't see her now. She is in red, a loud shade of red.
Orange, Orville contradicted, with some daring, Mary thought.
Scarlet, snapped Hester. Bright scarlet. Why there, she exclaimed, is that awful Randolph Pettijohn. In Washington we never have mixed parties like this!
Mary was no longer listening. Instinctively she had turned to look for the Bolito King. As he bowed to her formally she returned his greeting. She wondered who could be the girl by his side. She was very pretty in her golden-brown way, but there was an air about her which suggested that she was not quite at home in this environment. Even her dress, rose crêpe georgette strewn with purple velvet orchids, was a trifle theatrical, and her white stockings and bronze-green shoes were in deplorable taste.
You are a newcomer in our midst? Mary heard Orville demand of Byron.
Yes, was Byron's laconic response.
