You would think to
hear her that her one ideal in life was to be a simple shepherdess
and to raise flowers; but, as a matter of fact, she keeps a
scrap-album, and if a week passes that the newspapers do not have
some paragraphs about her doings, she begins to get restless."
Lucy broke into a laugh. "I was at Mrs. Robbie Walling's last
night," she said. "She was talking about the crowds at the opera,
and she said she was going to withdraw to some place where she
wouldn't have to see such mobs of ugly people."
"Yes," said he. "But you can't tell me anything about Mrs. Robbie
Walling. I have been there. There's nothing that lady does from the
time she opens her eyes in the morning until the time she goes to
bed the next morning that she would ever care to do if it were not
for the mobs of ugly people looking on."
--"You seem to be going everywhere," said Montague, after a pause.
"Oh, I guess I'm a success," said Lucy. "I am certainly having a
gorgeous time. I never saw so many beautiful houses or such dazzling
costumes in my life.
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