"And if I am, may I not be forgiven?" he urged. "I can assure you I find life very dull indeed."
It was a strange confession coming from the lips of such a man. If I had only a sixteenth part of his wealth I should, I reflected, be a very happy woman—unless the common saying were actually true, that great wealth only creates unbearable burdens.
"You are not the only one who finds life wearisome," I observed frankly, "I also have to plead guilty to the indictment on many occasions."
"You?" he cried, halting, and regarding me in surprise. "You—young, pretty, vivacious, with ever so many men in love with you? And you are tired of it all—tired of it while still in your twenties? Impossible!"
CHAPTER VII
MAINLY CONCERNS THE OWL
Late that night Ulrica made merry at my expense. She had noticed me walking tête-à-tête with old Mr. Keppel, and accused me of flirtation with him.
Now, I may be given to harmless frivolities with men of my own age, but I certainly have never endeavoured to attract those of maturer years. Elderly men may have admired me—that I do not deny—but assuredly this has been through no fault of my own. A woman's gowns are always an object of attention among the sterner sex. If, therefore, she dresses smartly she can at once attract a certain section of males, even though her features may be the reverse of prepossessing.
Truth to tell, a woman's natural chic, her taste in dress and her style of coiffure, are by far the most important factors towards her well-being. The day of the healthful, buxom, pink-and-white beauty is long past. The woman rendered artistic by soft chiffons, dainty blouses, and graceful tea-gowns reigns in her stead. Women nowadays are becoming very Continental. For instance, certain illustrated journals tell us that fur coats of every description are to be the mode, and a few foolish women think that if they possess such a garment, no matter what its shape, so long as it is of fur, they will be in the vanguard of Fashion! The really smart woman will, however, think twice before she hides her figure by any such bulky covering, merely because she happens to possess the fur, and it will take the furrier all the ingenuity at his command to produce the neat, short and close-fitting little coat or bolero which she would condescend to wear. Yes, we are yearly becoming more and more tasteful—more Parisian. Ulrica's suggestion caused me to laugh.
"Old Mr. Keppel walked with me because he wanted company, I suppose," I protested. "I had no idea such a misconstruction would be placed upon our conversation, Ulrica."