Drewena hurried forward and put her arms around her guest.
“Carrie!” she exclaimed. “You look simply gorgeous!”
Carrie’s cheeks deepened with pleasure. Her saucer-like eyes gave out a wet, blue happiness.
“I’m so glad you like me,” she said. “I didn’t want to look tacky.”
“‘Tacky,’ indeed!” said Drewena, for the beauty of Carrie’s gown astonished her. “That,” she continued, looking at the dress, “is a creation! Where did you find it?”
Carrie’s eyes shone with pride, though at the same time there was delicacy in the way she modeled the skirt with her hands.
“I didn’t find it, Drewena. I designed it. I made it for next spring, thinking perhaps I might be a June bride. I planned to do it in white if the style was attractive.” Carrie looked a little anxious. “Is the severe line too much for my hips?—they are rather large.”
“Of course not, dear,” answered Drewena. “It is very becoming.”
“Then,” said Carrie, “you do prefer the material to taffeta or crepe. I’m so glad,” she continued. “Those flouncy things always make me feel like a middle-aged matron.” She pushed the blonde hair of her transformation more firmly behind her ears and touched the roll at the back of her neck.
Drewena marveled at the change in her young friend. How awkward and lonely Carol had appeared in the stilted, formalized trousers styled for men! And how charming was this lovely Carrie, away from the stiff tailoring of masculine attire!