It was well nigh hopeless.

Warble sighed. Then she rang for Beer and ordered some French pastry and a
cup of chocolate.

Revived and revivified, Warble decided on a mad dash for reform.

Ordering Beer to dress her quickly, she did all she could to help, and
soon, in a daring combination of canary, black and coral, she was on her
way to the shops.

She achieved what is known as a utility box, and which is compounded of
matting and a few bamboo strips.

This she caused to be set up in her boudoir.

Came Petticoat.

No oral observations, but the next day an antique Florentine chest, carved
by Dante, replaced the box.

"Just as utile," Bill remarked, "and a lot more expensive. Kiss me."

That is the way the Petticoats of this world decree, and that is the way
the Warbles submit.

That Thursday afternoon she was in love with her husband. She toddled into
his room to talk to him. She was in pastel chiffon boudoir jambieres
picked out with rosebuds. She sat, cross-legged, on one of his gray satin
floor pillows and looked up at him.