pleased. At the same time he regarded her with a slightly bewildered
expression, for in some subtle fashion, her face as she propounded
the trifling plan, looked odd to him, and her voice also did not
sound quite natural. However, he dismissed the idea at once as mere
fancy, and watched proudly the admiring glances bestowed upon her in
the Fairbridge station, while they were waiting for the train.
Margaret had a peculiar knack in designing costumes which were at
once plain and striking. This morning she wore a black China silk,
through the thin bodice of which was visible an under silk strewn
with gold disks. Her girdle was clasped with a gold buckle, and when
she moved there were slight glimpses of a yellow silk petticoat. Her
hat was black, but under the brim was tucked a yellow rose against
her yellow hair. Then to finish all, Margaret wore in the lace at her
throat, a great brooch of turquoise matrix, which matched her eyes.
Her husband realised her as perfectly attired, although he did not in
the least understand why. He knew that his Margaret looked a woman of
another race from the others in the station, in their tailored
skirts, and shirtwaists, with their coats over arm, and their
shopping bags firmly clutched. It was a warm morning, and feminine
Fairbridge's idea of a suitable costume for a New York shopping trip
was a tailored suit, and a shirtwaist, and as a rule, the shirtwaist
did not fit. Margaret never wore shirtwaists,--she understood that
she was too short unless she combined a white skirt with a waist.
Margaret would have broken a commandment with less hesitation than
she would have broken the line of her graceful little figure with two
violently contrasting colours. Mrs. Sturtevant in a grey skirt and an
elaborate white waist, which emphasised her large bust, looked
ridiculous beside this fair, elegant little Margaret, although her
clothes had in reality cost more. Wilbur watched his wife as she
talked sweetly with the other woman, and his heart swelled with the