The hostess--a beautiful tall woman, with the brow of a child, a quick intellect, and an amazing experience of life--created round her an atmosphere that was really the expression of her own personality; fastidious, and yet eager; cold, and yet steeped in intellectual curiosities and passions.

Under the mingled stimulus and restraint of it, men and women brought out the best that was in them.

The talk was good, and nothing--neither the last violinist, nor the latest _danseuse_--was allowed to interfere with it.

And while the dress and jewels of the women were generally what a luxurious capital expects and provides, you might often find some little girl in a dyed frock--with courage, charm and breeding--the centre of the scene.
Elizabeth in white, and wearing some fine jewels which had been her mother's, had found herself placed on the left of her host, with an ex-Viceroy of India on her other hand.

Anderson, who was on the opposite side of the table, watched her animation, and the homage that was eagerly paid her by the men around her.