Across the table, Georgia Yeo looked at her hostess with timid admiration."I wonder," she thought, "if the time will ever come when that face will be familiar to me, atmeals?"She was acutely nervous, for she realized that the little dinner-party was a formal occasionwhen she was on exhibition. This was her great moment-her chance to grasp a futurewhich blinded her with its brilliancy.At present, she felt almost breathless by the rush of events, as though she were anotherAlice, whirled relentlessly through the air. It was only ten days since she had left England, for the first time in her life. Since then, much had happened-and it had happened tooquickly.She had come to Brussels and met the Count.History was made on her first night. She chose to stay at an old-established hotel, patronised by those who preferred an atmosphere of tradition to ultramodern plumbing.Once the mansion of a wealthy family, it preserved its original grandeur of yellowed marblewalls and vast gilt-framed mirrors as a background for solid nineteenth-century furniture.It was situated in the town, amid a tangle of dark narrow streets, so that Georgia was ableto gaze through the revolving doors of the lounge and watch the people passing outside. Afine rain was falling so imperceptibly that it was visible only as a sliver through thedarkness. It glistened on a procession of umbrellas and the statuary of a fountain, set in themiddle of the roa
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