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 her lounged an elderly gentleman in immaculate frock coat and waistcoat, regarding the crowd through a pince-nez that gave him an aristocratic hauteur of expression, for it refused to stay on if he lowered the angle of his head. The lady was no other than the Marchioness of Kilgare, formerly Fanny Colcourt of New York, returned now for the first time in many years.

"'That girl by the punch-bowl,' explained Mr. Belgrave Gerome (the former fiancé and present Virgil of the coroneted Fanny), that girl is Bella Claxmore, Belle Carter's daughter,—you remember her, don't you? The tall woman in chinchilla and gray is Mortmeer Dent's second wife.'

"'Really,' exclaimed Lady Kilgare, as she elevated her lorgnette with a well-bred insolence. 'How could Mortmeer marry such a frump after suffering the loss of that sweet bit of Dresden—Molly!' "'A million or so,' said Gerome.

"'Ah, I see—trade, of course. Forgive me, I was in London for the moment. What was it? Cutlery, cookstoves, or calico?' 313