“You needn’t give me none o’ your nasty slurs—like your Pa was always throwin’ your mother. Oh, I know all about ’em! Your mother told me and I seen enough of him at the shop to know she warn’t far wrong!”
“Let’s not quarrel, Milly. If you’re going to the dinner you’ll need some clothes—something new.”
“You bet I will!” cried Milly defiantly, then added as though the expense might make Nathan think better of the rash engagement, “It’ll cost you all of fifty dollars, Mr. Man!”
“Milly, this thing may mean a lot to me. I want you to appear extra attractive. Fifty dollars! I’m going to give you two hundred and fifty dollars and I want to see you ‘dress to kill!’ Find a masseuse first and have her doll you up and then go over in Fifth Avenue and splurge!—for once—splurge!”
Two hundred and fifty dollars! Milly nearly had a spasm. She remained struck voiceless as Nathan actually handed over the money with a vague idea that some such sum would be necessary. Like many poor males, Nathan held the subconscious notion that all that was necessary to dress a woman “to kill” was money.
And Milly? She swore she was being robbed when a masseuse had worked over her an hour and a half and charged her ten dollars, though she was not wholly displeased with the resultant change in her appearance. But when she walked into Martinets, Incorporated, with an aplomb she did not feel and discovered that “the cheapest dress they had” cost two hundred and sixty dollars, her nerve fled and so did Milly. Over on Sixth Avenue she bought something “perfectly stunning” for seventeen dollars and ninety-eight cents,—a difference of two hundred and forty-two dollars and two cents by traveling one block. Which only went to prove how much money you could save in New York when you only knew where to shop!
The “perfectly stunning” creation was an afternoon dress of cerise taffeta, gorgeously strung over the front with spangles. Milly went on the theory that shine and “class” were synonymous,—“class” being Milly’s favorite word and “shine” Milly’s favorite idea of beauty. And if the lights of Mrs. Percival Mosely’s dining room didn’t shine on Milly’s frock it was going to be through no fault of the goods whereof the said frock was constructed. Milly also bought a dark bottle-green fan on the principle that colors show off best by contrast.
Truly Milly was a “queen” when the adjustments were finally completed. She wondered if she could go through with it.
The Moselys lived in the East Fifties, two blocks off The Avenue,—a rather coldly impersonal house with a gray-stone front. At seven-forty-five Milly permitted Nathan to help her alight from the taxi. In fact, his help was extremely welcome. For Milly’s knees had turned to tallow long before Nathan had “hooked her up”, not knowing whether he exactly approved of Milly’s purchases or not. The fan shocked him so badly that he absolutely forbade her carrying it. Likewise he made her dispense with the twenty-cent aigrette she had purchased to add “class” to her hair. On the whole, Milly did not object to dispensing with these things, although she did wonder what she was going to do with her hands.
When he had finally drawn off and looked at his wife, Nat knew there was something vaguely wrong somewhere. But the time was going and if they delayed longer they would be late. Milly insisted it was fashionable to arrive late. Nevertheless, her husband believed in being punctual at so critical a time to himself. As for Nathan, he had bought his first suit of dinner clothes and, exceptional to recount, the fellow felt strangely at home in them.