CHAPTER XII
THE REVOLT OF THE SEVENTH STEP
The sharp tap on Eveley’s window was followed by an impatient brushing aside of the curtains, and Miriam Landis swung gracefully over the sill in a cloud of chiffon and silk.
“Lem is waiting in the car,” she began quickly, “but I came up to show you my new gown. Are you nearly ready? Lem is so impatient, you know.” Fumbling with the fasteners of her wide cape she drew it back and revealed a bewilderingly beautiful creation beneath.
Eveley went into instant and honest raptures.
“Do you like it, Eveley? Am I beautiful in it?” There was a curious wistfulness in her voice, and Eveley studied her closely.
“Of course you are beautiful in it. You are a dream. You are irresistibly heavenly.”
“I wonder if Lem thinks so,” said Miriam, half breathlessly.
“Why, you little goose,” cried Eveley, forcing the laughter. “How could he think anything else? There, he is honking for us already. We must hurry—Why, Miriam, you silly, how could any one think you anything in the world but matchlessly wonderful in anything—especially in a dream like that?”