Him one couldn't think of without a background of out-of-doors; woods, mountain, field—and perhaps a manure-heap with a Land Girl working there.
And now (so I persuaded myself) he had become infatuated with and wanted to marry a boudoir-type of girl, who hated to go out in a wind!
Ah, the tricks that are played by the charm of Contrast! ... and why should I feel sore about them?
CHAPTER XVIII
THE NIGHT OF THE CONCERT
At last the great day of the long-discussed Concert arrived.
At last the burning question was decided whether we Campites were to attend in uniform or "civvies."
Popular opinion had been in favour of Sunday-go-to-meeting clothes. Some girls had wired home to hasten their parcels. The red-haired Welsh timber-girl had been all delight over the prospect of adorning herself in a blouse of rose-pink voile with flowers embroidered in coarse white cotton. How entirely it spoilt her looks! In fact, there was scarcely a girl in that camp who didn't look a thousand times more attractive in uniform than she did in an ordinary hat and frock.
Uniform does manage to be always "right" in a way that only the most successful "other clothes" ever achieve. But only one woman in twenty can ever be persuaded to see that.
Elizabeth and I were highly pleased, however, when the verdict came from the forewoman that uniform was to be worn at the concert after all.