Molly enjoyed the Beta Phi party, however, in spite of her dress, which Millicent Porter had dignified by calling it a “lingerie.”
“How much nicer you look than the other girls in more elaborate things,” she said admiringly.
Molly felt gratified.
“I don’t feel nicer,” she said. “I have a weakness for fine clothes. I love to hear the rustle of silk against silk. Your blue velvet dress is like a beautiful picture to me. I could look and look at it. There’s a kind of depth to it like mist on blue water.”
Millicent bridled with pleased vanity.
“It is rather nice,” she admitted modestly. “It’s a French dress made by the same dressmaker who designs clothes for a big actress. Don’t you want to see some of my work? I have put it on exhibition to-night. I thought it would interest the new members. The girls here are quite familiar with it, of course.”
Molly was delighted to see the craftsmanship of this unusual young woman, who appeared to be a peculiar mixture of pretentiousness and genius.
When, presently, she led Molly into the little den where her silver work was spread out on view it was almost as if she had turned into a little old man and was taking a customer into the back of his shop.
Some of the other girls had followed and they now stood in an admiring circle around the table whereon were displayed rings and necklaces, buckles and several silver platters.
“You are a wonder,” cried Molly, deeply impressed.