Aunt Elizabeth and I
get lost the moment we move outside the door . . . Do you like my
dress?" she asked him.
"Why!" he said, obviously startled by such a question. "It's--it's
splendid!"
"No, you know it isn't," she answered quickly, dropping her voice
into a confidential statement. "It's all wrong. I thought you'd know
why as you've been everywhere. Caroline Smith helped me to choose
it, and it looked all right until I wore it. It's me . . . I'm
hopeless to fit. Caroline says so. I don't care about clothes--if
only I looked just like anybody else I'd never bother again--but
it's so tiresome to have taken so much trouble and then for it to be
all wrong."
Martin was then aware of many things--that this was a strange
unusual girl, that she reassured him as to her interest, her
vitality, her sincerity as no girl had ever done before, that his
sister was aware of their intimate conversation and that she
resented it, and that he must see this girl again and as soon as
possible. He was as liable as any young man in the world to the most
sudden and most violent enthusiasms, but they had been enthusiasms
for a pretty face, for a sensual appeal, for a sentimental moment.
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