“Think of this,” said Jane, “and Lucy’s days at the office.”
“And yet,” Edith pondered, “she told me if he had not had a penny she would have been happy with him.”
“I believe it. With a cottage, one pig, and a rose-bush, they would find bliss. It is like that with them.”
The two women sat down on the marble coping of the fountain. The peacock trailed by them, its jewels all ablaze under the sun.
“That peacock makes me think of Adelaide.” Edith swept her hand through the water, scaring the little fishes.
“Why?”
“In that dress she had on to-night—bronze and blue and green tulle. I will say this for Adelaide, she knows how to dress.”
“Does she ever think of anything else but clothes?”
“Men,” succinctly.
“Oh.”