Her clothes were good, and she wore them like a princess.
One evening late in January, Deena and Ben were dining with a gay young matron, who, without any especial personal charm herself, had the faculty of drawing to her house the best element society had to offer. The engagement had been made for them by Polly, much against her husband's wishes, and his anxiety at leaving her alone could hardly be concealed during dinner.
As soon as the ladies left the table he excused himself to his host, and, following the little hostess into the drawing room, he whispered a few words in her ear, nodded to Deena and disappeared.
"Your brother-in-law has gone home to his wife, Mrs. Ponsonby," said the hostess.
"I have never seen such devotion." She laughed a trifle enviously; her own infelicities were the talk of the town.
Deena started forward in alarm.
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