"How lovely the house is," said Madame, looking around appreciatively.
"I hope the dinner will be good."
"I've never known it to be otherwise," Rose assured her.
"Am I all right? Is my skirt even?"
"You are absolutely perfect, Aunt Francesca."
"Then play to me, my dear. If my outward semblance is in keeping, please
put my mind into a holiday mood."
Rose ran her fingers lightly over the keys. "What shall I play?"
"Anything with a tune to it, and not too loud."
Smiling, Rose began one of the simple melodies that Aunt Francesca
loved:
[Illustration: musical notation]
Suddenly, she turned away from the piano. Her elbow, falling upon the
keys, made a harsh dissonance. "Isabel, my dear!" she cried. "Aren't you
almost too gorgeous?"
The girl stood in the open door, framed like a portrait, against the
dull red background of the hall. Her gown was white net, shot and
spangled with silver, over lustrous white silk. A comb, of filagree
silver, strikingly lovely in her dark hair, was her only ornament except
a large turquoise, set in dull silver, at her throat.
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