That's Lasca Sartoris, Mary heard Mrs. Sumner reply.
Mary stared ahead of her. There he was, dancing with that exotic Negro sense of rhythm which made time a thing in space. In his arms was the most striking woman Mary had ever seen. A robe of turquoise-blue satin clung to her exquisite body, brought out in relief every curve. The dress was cut so low in front that the little depression between her firm, round breasts was plainly visible. Her golden-brown back was entirely nude to the waist. The dress was circled with wide bands of green and black sequins, designed to resemble the fur of the leopard. A tiara of sapphires sparkled in her hair, and a choker of these stones, around her throat.
What an extraordinary woman! Mrs. Lorillard exclaimed. Like a cocotte of the golden era! I don't think I've ever heard her name before.
She lives in Paris, Mrs. Sumner was explaining. She's only been back a short time.
Mary, through a mist, saw Dick Sill approaching the box.
Won't you dance with me, Mary? he demanded.
It's so warm, she protested. Yes, I will, she contradicted herself at once.
I wish you'd come to see me, Miss Love, Mrs. Lorillard suggested: Perhaps Emily would bring you.
