"
"Failure!" I repeated incredulously. "I do not understand that. One hears
everywhere of the social triumphs of the American woman."
Mrs. Van Reinberg's eyes shone straight into mine. Her face expressed the
most unmitigated contempt.
"Social triumphs!" she repeated scornfully. "What clap-trap! I tell you
that a season in London or Paris, much more Vienna, is enough to drive a
real American woman crazy. Success, indeed! What does it amount to?"
She paused for a moment to take breath. I realized then that the woman
whom I had known was something of a fraud, a puppet hung out with the
rags of a European manner, according to the study and observation of the
shrewd, little lady who pulled the strings. It was Mrs. Van Reinberg of
London and Paris whom I had met upon the steamer; it was Mrs. Van
Reinberg of New York who was talking to me now, and she was speaking in
her own language.
"Look here, Mr. Courage," she said, leaning towards me with her elbows
upon her knees, and nothing left of that elegant pose which she had at
first assumed.
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