Isabelle Borgé 16

She paused at the top of the staircase. The sensations attributed to divers on spring-boards, leading ladies on opening nights, and lumpy, husky young men on the day of the Big Game, crowded through her. She should have descended to a burst of drums or a discordant blend of themes from Thais and Carmen. She had never been so curious about her appearance, she had never been so satisfied with it. She had been sixteen years old for six months.