CHAPTER V
MADAME AND HER FRIEND CHAT BY THE FIRESIDE
Madam—(moving her slender fingers)—It is ruched, ruched, ruched, loves of ruches, edged all around with blond.
Her Friend—That is good style, dear.
Madame—Yes, I think it will be the style, and over this snowlike foam fall the skirts of blue silk like the bodice; but a lovely blue, something like—a little less pronounced than skyblue, you know, like— my husband calls it a subdued blue.
Her Friend—Splendid. He is very happy in his choice of terms.
Madame—Is he not? One understands at once—a subdued blue.
It describes it exactly.
Her Friend—But apropos of this, you know that Ernestine has not forgiven him his pleasantry of the other evening.
Madame—How, of my husband? What pleasantry? The other evening when the
Abbe Gelon and the Abbe Brice were there?
Her Friend—And his son, who was there also.