On a few of the swagger limousines there
were two men in livery on the box. She felt rather ashamed of having
only one.
Her haughty discontent fell from her when she arrived at Lady
Powell-Carewe's shop. She wished she had not come alone. She did
not know how to behave. And what in Heaven's name did you call
her--"Your Ladyship" or "Your Majesty" or what?
She walked in so meekly and was so simply clad that nobody in
the place paid any heed to her at first. It was a very busy place,
with girls rushing to and fro or sauntering limberly up and down
in tremendously handsome gowns.
Kedzie could not pick out Lady Powell-Carewe. One of the promenaders
was so tall and so haughty that Kedzie thought she must be at least
a "Lady." She was in a silvery, shimmery green-and-gray gown, and
the man whom the customers called "Mr. Charles" said:
"Madame calls this the Blown Poplar. Isn't it bully?"
Kedzie caught Mr. Charles's eye. He spoke to her sharply:
"Well?"
He evidently thought her somebody looking for a job as bundle-carrier.
She was pretty, but there were tons of pretty girls. They bored Mr.
Charles to death. He had a whole beagle-pack of them to care for.
Kedzie poked at him Ferriday's letter of introduction addressed to
Lady Powell-Carewe. Mr. Charles took it and, not knowing what it
contained, bore it into the other room without asking Kedzie to
sit down.
He reappeared at the door and bowed to her with great amazement.
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