"Which? Oh, the one playing the harp, you mean? I might have known that!
A rare beauty, isn't she? I thought you would find her out pretty soon!"
Now I am a middle-aged bachelor of quiet tastes, and nothing annoys me
more than when my friends poke ponderous fun at me in this fashion. So,
ignoring Maitland's facetious suggestion, I calmly walked forward and
shook hands with my hostess. She greeted me with her customary
cordiality, and in about two minutes I was feeling perfectly at home in
spite of my dusty clothes. I now had an opportunity of examining the
other guests, who were dispersed in groups about the room. Most of them
were people I had frequently met before under the Maitlands' hospitable
roof, but the face which had first arrested my attention was that of an
absolute stranger.
"I see you are admiring Miss Latouche, like the rest of us," said Mrs.
Maitland in a low voice. "Such a talented girl! She can play positively
any kind of instrument, and has persuaded me to have the old harp taken
out of the lumber-room and put in order for her. She looks so well
playing it, doesn't she? Quite like Cleopatra or the Queen of Sheba!"
"She is undoubtedly handsome in a certain style," I replied cautiously.
"I don't know whether I admire such a gipsy type myself--"
"Ah, you agree with me then," interrupted my hostess eagerly.
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