But the girl's passion for clothes, amounting almost to a
complete "reversion to type," had at once relieved and alarmed her. "If
I can strike a balance for her," she had said to herself in a certain
midnight musing, "I shall do very well."
As yet, however, Isabel had failed to "balance." She dressed for morning
and luncheon and afternoon, and again for dinner, changing to street
gowns when necessary and doing her hair in a different way for each
gown. Still, as Rose had said, she "suited herself," for she was always
immaculate, beautifully clad, and a joy to behold.
Madame Bernard greatly approved of the lovely white wool house gown
Isabel was wearing. She had no fault to find with the girl's taste, but
she wished to subordinate, as it were, the thing to the spirit; the
temple to the purpose for which it was made.
Isabel smiled at her sweetly as she folded up her work--a little
uncomprehending smile. "Are you going away now for your 'forty winks,'
Aunt Francesca?"
"Yes, my dear. Can you amuse yourself for an hour or so without playing
upon the piano?"
"Certainly.
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