“Doesn’t it fit?” he inquired.
“Perfectly; that’s the trouble. It is not
comfortable. We never before were permitted to wear skirts and all sorts of pretty fluffy frills under them, and such high heels, and such long stockings, and such tight lacing—” She hesitated, then calmly: “But I believe father told us that we are not to mention our pretty underwear, though it’s hard not to, as it’s the first we ever had.”
Harrow was past all speech.
“I wish I had my lounging-suit on,” she said with a sigh and a hitch of her perfectly modeled shoulders.
“W—what sort of things do you usually dress in?” he ventured.
“Why, in dress-reform clothes!” she said, laughing. “We never have worn anything else.”
“Bloomers!”
“I don’t know; we had trousers and blouses and sandals—something like the pink pajamas we have for night-wear now. Formerly we wore nothing at night. I am beginning to wonder, from the way people look at us when we speak of this, whether we were odd. But all our lives we have never thought about clothing. However, I am glad you like my new gown, and I fancy I’ll get used to this
tight lacing in time.... What is your name?”