"It's Harry Kelly, of course. Give me a moment to catch my breath. Mrs. Harry Kelly!"
"Not a bit of it."
"What do you mean?"
"You've heard of Paulette crepe, haven't you?"
"The crepe that's all the rage this year. Mr. Pryor, when I see a Paulette crepe blouse in a London shop, the cells of my great-great-grandmother rise enviously within me and turn the clock back to Noah."
"The curse of Eve," said Mr. Pryor, in his driest vein. "Well, everybody knows that Paulette crepe is named after Madame Paulette, one of the first dressmakers of Paris. Not everybody knows that Madame Paulette's real name is—"
"Cornelia!"
"Precisely."
Prior briefly narrated the curious story of Cornelia's migration to Paris, her marriage to Harry Kelly, her transformation into a fashionable dressmaker. Through a convergence of happy events, in which Pryor had had a hand, Cornelia had been able to enter the old and famous house of Paulette, then noticeably on the decline. Her artistic gifts and Kelly's industry had rejuvenated the management and revived the glories of the Paulette tradition. In a little less than a year Cornelia and Kelly had bought out the aged proprietors of the firm.
"No wonder I didn't hear from her," said Janet. "All my letters came back unopened. I began to think she had turned her back on me."