it; those women had the confluent kind. But I know that Madame Rene
really approved of me, for when I blushed and asked her if she could
recommend a good beauty doctor she held up her hands and shuddered.

"Never, madame, never _pour vous. Ravissant, charmant_--it is too
foolish. Nevair! _Jamais, jamais de la vie!_" I had to calm her
down, and she bowed over my hand when we parted.

I thought Klein was going to do the same thing or worse when I signed
the cheque which would be enough to provide him with a new motor-car,
but he didn't. He only said politely, "And I am delighted that the
trousseau is perfectly satisfactory to you, madame."

That was an awful shock, and I hope I didn't show it as I murmured
"Perfectly, thank you."

The word "trousseau" can be spoken in a woman's presence for many years
with no effect, but it is an awful shock when she first _really_
hears it. I felt queer all the afternoon as I packed those trunks for
the five o'clock train.

Yes, the word "trousseau" ought to have a definite surname after it
always, and that's why my loyalty dragged poor Mr. Carter out into the
light of my conscience. The thinking of him had a strange effect on me.
I had laid out the dream in dark grey-blue cloth, tailored almost beyond
endurance, to wear in the train going home, and had thrown the old black
silk bag across the chair to give to the hotel maid, but the decision of
the session between conscience and loyalty made me pack the precious
blue wonder and put on once more the black rags of remembrance in a kind
of panic of respect.