I won't be beaten. And when I've done something worth doing,
I'll stop. That's the way to gamble."
XX
Mary was not comfortable at the Dauntreys', and the house depressed her;
but it was a refuge from the Hotel de Paris, where Prince Giovanni Della
Robbia was; and Lady Dauntrey was so kind, so affectionate, that Mary
felt it her duty to be grateful. Almost strangers as they were, her
hostess poured into her ears a great many intimate confidences, and
asked her guest's advice as well as sympathy. Mary was touched by this,
for Lady Dauntrey seemed a strong woman; and, besides, the slight put
upon her by Vanno had left a raw wound which appreciation from others
helped superficially to heal. She had been so openly admired and
flattered at Monte Carlo that vanity had blossomed in her nature like a
quick-growing flower, though she had no idea that she had become vain.
Men looked at her with the look which is a tribute from the whole sex.
She could hardly bear it that the One Man should disapprove.
Those impecunious painters who haunt the open-air restaurants at Monte
Carlo, on the chance of selling a five-minute portrait, had buzzed round
her like bees round a honey-pot, but they were not the only ones. Two
artists of some renown had got themselves introduced through
acquaintances the Casino had given her, and begged her to sit to them.
Also it was true, as gossip said, that the artist she had met in the
train had arrived, and hastened to renew the acquaintance.
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