"Well!" he observed, surveying her in the soft glow of the
reception-room lighted by wall candles judiciously arranged.
"Who's the vision floating around here? I'm almost afraid to touch
you. Much powder on those arms?"

He drew her into his arms, and she put up her mouth with a sense
of relief. Obviously, he must think that she looked charming.

"I am chalky, I guess. You'll just have to stand it, though.
You're going to dress, anyhow."

She put her smooth, plump arms about his neck, and he felt pleased.
This was the kind of a woman to have--a beauty. Her neck was
resplendent with a string of turquoise, her fingers too heavily
jeweled, but still beautiful. She was faintly redolent of hyacinth
or lavender. Her hair appealed to him, and, above all, the rich
yellow silk of her dress, flashing fulgurously through the closely
netted green.

"Charming, girlie. You've outdone yourself. I haven't seen this
dress before. Where did you get it?"

"Here in Chicago."

He lifted her warm fingers, surveying her train, and turned her
about.

"You don't need any advice. You ought to start a school."