"I'm not overdressed, am I?" she asked, with an eager look at Madame.
"Not if it suits you. Come here, dear."
Isabel obeyed, turning around slowly for inspection. Almost instantly it
was evident that Madame approved. So did Rose, after she saw how the
gown made Isabel's eyes sparkle and brought out the delicate fairness of
her skin.
"You do suit yourself; there's no question about that, but you're
gorgeous, nevertheless." Thus Rose made atonement for her first
impulsive speech.
Mr. Boffin came in, with a blue ribbon around his neck, and helped
himself to Aunt Francesca's chair. Isabel rocked him and he got down,
without undue haste. He marched over to a straight-backed chair with a
cushion in it; glared at Isabel for a moment with his inscrutable topaz
eyes, then began to purr.
The clock chimed seven silvery notes. Madame Bernard waved her white
lace fan impatiently. "It's the psychological moment," Rose observed.
"Why don't they come?"
"It's Allison's fault, if they're late," Madame assured her. "I could
always set my watch by the Colonel. He--there, what did I tell you?" she
concluded triumphantly, as footsteps sounded outside.
Pages:
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48