“A sort of orange,” she explained. And, in a slightly defiant tone: “Rodney's is a costume dance, you know.”
“Do you mean you are in fancy dress?”
“I am, indeed.”
He was rather startled. The annual dinner of the board of governors of the City Club and their wives was a most dignified function always. He was the youngest by far of the men; the women were all frankly dowagers. They represented the conservative element of the city's social life, that element which frowned on smartness and did not even recognize the bizarre. It was old-fashioned, secure in its position, influential, and slightly tedious.
“There will be plenty in fancy dress.”
“Not at the dinner.”
“Stodgy old frumps!” was Natalie's comment. “I believe you would rather break one of the ten commandments than one of the conventions,” she added.
It was when he saw her coming down the staircase in the still empty clubhouse that he realized the reason for her defiant attitude when she acknowledged to fancy dress. For she wore a peacock costume of the most daring sort. Over an orange foundation, eccentric in itself and very short, was a vivid tunic covered with peacock feathers on gold tissue, with a sweeping tail behind, and on her head was the towering chest of a peacock on a gold bandeau. She waved a great peacock fan, also, and half-way down the stairs she paused and looked down at him, with half-frightened eyes.
“Do you like it?”
“It is very wonderful,” he said, gravely.