She followed the direction of his gaze. “Hideous, aren’t they?” she said.
“They are, rather,” he replied. “Why do you have them?”
“Well, you see,” she answered, “so many milliners and dressmakers come to see me in connection with my monthly fashion articles; and they would of course think nothing of my taste if I had any really nice pictures on my walls.”
She dived behind the sofa and rose again with her hands full of a medley of startling nightgowns.
“Look at these!” she laughed. “They were left here for me to criticise by a shop which calls itself ‘Frocks, Follies, and Fragrance.’ Horrible, aren’t they? The only nice thing about them is their exquisite material. I always say to all young married women: ‘Flannel nightgowns may keep you warm, but crêpe-de-Chine will keep your husband.”
Jim stared at the wildly coloured garments long and thoughtfully. “I sometimes think,” he said at length, “that women have no sense of humour.”
“No more has Nature,” she replied. “Look at the camel.” She changed the conversation. “Tell me,” she said, “how is Dolly?”
“Top hole, thanks,” he replied.
“I notice,” Mrs. Darling remarked, as they sat down together on the big sofa, “that you don’t bring her to Town with you nowadays. I hope you’re not leading a double life?”
“No,” he answered.