"Yes. Rather pretty—nothing to scream about."
"But her style!" cried Susan.
"Oh, she was nicely dressed—in a quiet way. You'll see thousands a lot more exciting after you've been about in this town a while."
"I've seen scores of beautifully dressed women here—and in
Cincinnati, too," replied Susan. "But that woman—she was
perfect. And that's a thing I've never seen before."
"I'm glad you have such quiet tastes—quiet and inexpensive."
"Inexpensive!" exclaimed Susan. "I don't dare think how much that woman's clothes cost. You only glanced at her, Rod, you didn't look. If you had, you'd have seen. Everything she wore was just right." Susan's eyes were brilliant. "Oh, it was wonderful! The colors—the fit—the style—the making—every big and little thing. She was a work of art, Rod! That's the first woman I've seen in my life that I through and through envied."
Rod's look was interested now. "You like that sort of thing a lot?" he inquired with affected carelessness.
"Every woman does," replied she, unsuspicious. "But I care—well, not for merely fine clothes. But for the—the kind that show what sort of person is in them." She sighed. "I wonder if I'll ever learn—and have money enough to carry out. It'll take so much—so much!" She laughed. "I've got terribly extravagant ideas. But don't be alarmed—I keep them chained up."
He was eying her unpleasantly. Suddenly she became confused. He thought it was because she was seeing and understanding his look and was frightened at his having caught her at last. In fact, it was because it all at once struck her that what she had innocently and carelessly said sounded like a hint or a reproach to him. He sneered:
"So you're crazy about finery—eh?"
"Oh, Rod!" she cried. "You know I didn't mean it that way. I long for and dream about a whole lot of beautiful things, but nothing else in the world's in the same class with—with what we've got."