Eleven-thirty came and went.
By this time Cindy was the only one having a
good time. The musicians and servants seemed to
adore her. Eagerly they played and she sang. When
she wasn't singing, she was dancing with every man
there, even Trevor and other male servants. She
gestured to the maids, inviting them to dance, and
happily they joined in the festivity she created around
her as they took turns to see that she, at least, was
entertained.
"Let's all eat, drink and be merry!" Cindy cried,
smiling at Bart. "It's not the end of the world, brother
Bart. What do you care? We're too rich to be well
liked. We're also too rich to feel sorry for ourselves. And look, we have at least twenty guests . . . let's
dance, drink, eat, have a ball!"
Bart stopped pacing to stare at her. Cindy held
high her glass of champagne. "My toast to you,
brother Bart. For every ugly thing you've said to me, I
give you back blessings of good will, good health,
long life and much love." She touched his highball
glass with her champagne glass and then sipped,
smiling into his eyes charmingly before she offered
another toast. "I think you look absolutely terrif, and
the girls who don't show up tonight are missing the
chance of their lifetimes. So here it is, another toast to
the most eligible bachelor in the world. I wish you
joy, I wish you happiness, I wish you love. I would
wish you success, but you don't need that." , He couldn't move his eyes away: "Why don't I
need success?" he asked in a low tone.
"Because what more could you want? You have