“She said,” he went on, “that you called Mr. Stanwood Prince Charming before you knew of his existence. Nothing in that to offend you, but a riddle of riddles all the same, to me.”
Ogden’s pleasant voice soothing her vanity made swallowing a much easier matter. “You see,” she hesitated, “I used to be in Ross Graham’s.”
“Long ago?” He glanced at her childlike profile.
“Yes.—About three days. Miss Frink bought something of me—and I said—it was fit for Prince Charming—and Miss Frink didn’t know about fairy tales.”
“I dare say not,” remarked Ogden.
“So I told her, and we—we got acquainted that way.”
“Not that gorgeous robe!” said Ogden, suddenly enlightened.
“Yes, that horrid dressing-gown!”
“Horrid? It’s a dream!”
“Yes, a nightmare.”