"If you have a soul--and I'm not at all certain you have--" he
said, "it's divided into a dressmaker's and a hairdresser's and
a milliner's shop. It's full of tumbled piles of hats and frocks
and diamond combs. It's an awful mess, Feather."

"I hope it's a shoe shop and a jeweller's as well," she laughed
quite gaily. "And a lace-maker's. I need every one of them."

"It's a rag shop," he said. "It has nothing but CHIFFONS in it."

"If ever I DO think of souls I think of them as silly gauzy things
floating about like little balloons," was her cheerful response.

"That's an idea," he answered with a rather louder laugh. "Yours
might be made of pink and blue gauze spangled with those things
you call paillettes."

The fancy attracted her.

"If I had one like that"--with a pleased creative air, "it would
look rather ducky floating from my shoulder--or even my hat--or my
hair in the evenings, just held by a tiny sparkling chain fastened
with a diamond pin--and with lovely little pink and blue streamers."
With the touch of genius she had at once relegated it to its place
in the scheme of her universe. And Robert laughed even louder than
before.

"You mustn't make me laugh," she said holding up her hand. "I am
having my hair done to match that quakery thin pale mousey dress