158 MOLLY BAWN.
sustained! And what a partisan you have become I May
I ask,' suppressing a pretended yawn behind her perfumed
fan, ' where your rara avis is at present hiding ?'
' I asked him,' says Mr. Potts, ' but he rather evaded the
' And is that your Mr. Potts ?' asks MoUy, finding her¬
self close to Tedcastle, speaking with heavy and suspicious
'Yes,' Tedcastle admits, colouring slightly as he re¬
members the glowing terms in which he has described his
friend. ' Don't you—eh, don't you like him ?'
' Oh ! like him, I cannot answer that yet; but,' laughing,
' I certainly don't admire him.'
And indeed Mr. Potts' beauty is not of the sort to caU
forth raptures at first sight.
'I have seen many different shades of red in people's
hair,' says Molly, ' but I have never seen it rosy untU now.
Is it dyed ? It is the most curious thing I ever looked at.'
As indeed it is. '^ATien introduced to poor Potts, when
covering him with a first dispassionate glance, one thinks not
of his pale grey orbs, his large good-humoured mouth, his
freckles, or enormous nose, but only of his hair. Molly is
struck by it at once.
' He is a right good feUow,' says Luttrell, rather in¬
dignantly, being scarcely in the mood to laugh at MoUy's
' He may be,' is her calm reply, ' but if I were he, rather
than go through Ufe with that complexion and that unhappy
head I would commit suicide.'
Then there is a Uttle more music. Marcia plays
brilliantly enough, but it is almost impossible to forget
during her playing that she has had an excellent master. It
is not genuine, or from the heart. It is clever, but it is
acquired, and falls very flatly after Molly's perfect singing,
and no one in the room feels this more acutely than Marcia
Then Luttrell, who has a charming voice, sings for them
something pathetic and reproachful, you may be sure, as it
is meant for Molly's ears; and then the evening is at an
end, and they all go to their own rooms.
What a haven of rest and security is one's own room!