I was not so sure of that, by any means. Momentarily it was becoming clearer that Jane’s point of view was scarcely mine.
“A gentleman friend of mine, he likes colour—pink especial. He’d like to see me pink from head to foot, winter and summer, though for winter it always seems to me to be a trifle cool. I got that hat to suit him. Now, that’s what I call striking!” She held out the article in front of her. “If you try it on, you’ll find it’ll stand out on you. You try it on, Miss Norah.”
I try it on!—Jane’s hat!—That hat! A shiver went all over me, which was not caused by my being at the moment lightly clad. Fortunately, I was not compelled to go to quite those limits, there was a loophole for escape.
“You forget, Jane, that I shall not wear a hat, so I’m afraid it will be no use for me to try it on, especially as time is getting short. Though it’s awfully good of you to suggest it; I’m sure that in that hat I should look striking.”
I was sure. It was a pink silk article, of the picture variety, with a big brilliant pink bow ornamenting it in front, and a huge pink feather running round it, and then drooping over the side. If I went out with that on my head, even the omnibus drivers would make remarks.
Jane seemed to regret my unwillingness to try it on. Possibly, my disinclination to avail myself of her offer did not synchronise with her notions of feminine human nature.
“I was forgetting, miss, as how you could not wear a hat. It seems a pity. I suppose it couldn’t be managed.”
“I am afraid not. You see, I could hardly wear it at dinner; and if I did, they wouldn’t let me into the theatre with it afterwards.”
She laid that nightmare in bilious pink on one side, with a sigh.
“It do seem a pity, it really do! In that hat you’d be noticeable if you was with fifty gentlemen, let alone with five.”