“That woman one sees everywhere with a positive procession of young men at her heels!”
“That woman, and no other.”
“She is hardly——”
“She is awfully chic, especially in mourning.”
“I will admit she has some style.”
“Admit, when you and all the other women have copied the color of her hair and the cut of her sleeves for three seasons past! I like that!”
Freddy was growing warm.
“When you accuse me of imitating the appearance of a person of that kind,” said Lady Glanmire, in a cold fury, “you insult your mother. And when you ally yourself with her in the face of Society, as you are about to do, you are going too far. As to this millinery establishment, it shall not open.”
“My dear mother,” said Freddy, “it has been open for a week.”
He drew a card from an exquisite case mounted in gold. On the pasteboard appeared the following inscription in neat characters of copperplate:—