“Yes, if you like. But promise me that you will bring me to Bath House every day. You will want to come yourself, if only to get away from Great House, and you have friends there—a nice old lady named Macmanus—and I saw two or three women with such frocks! Did you bring me any frocks from London?”
“Ah—I didn’t! But, you see, I not only left in such a hurry, but I had no idea whether you were tall or short. Of course I brought you some presents.”
“Oh, did you? What are they?”
“Some pretty silver things for your dressing-table, and a manicure set, and some scarves, and all sorts of fol-de-rols that pretty girls like.”
“Well, that’s too sweet of you,” and Fanny, kissed her again. “But I’d rather have had frocks. What shall I do if you take me to the party at Bath House on Thursday night?—and you must! You must! There’s no dressmaker on Nevis that could make a party-gown.”
“You shall have any of my evening gowns you want. You are taller, but Collins is quite a genius.”
Fanny almost danced. “That will be heavenly. Oh—oh—talk about frocks!”
“What a pretty woman!”
They were both looking at a very smart young woman advancing down the palm avenue. She had a dark vivid little face, and wore a frock of sublimated pink linen, and a soft drooping black hat. She smiled and waved her parasol as she caught Julia’s eye.
“Of course you’ve forgotten me, Mrs. France,” she cried gayly.