Ellsworth's cast-off clothes, made over in odd moments by the
wearer) so dowdy and second-hand that--that--a stranger would be ashamed
to----?
The question feared to finish itself.
"I _do_ look like a lady, anyhow," the girl thought with defiance.
"That's what he--that seems to be the test."
Now she was in a hurry to get the ordeal over. Instead of hanging back
she walked briskly out of the cloak-room before those who had entered
ahead of her finished patting their hair or putting powder on their
noses.
It was worse in the large vestibule, where men sat or stood, waiting for
their feminine belongings; and she was the only woman alone. But her boat
was launched on the wild sea. There was no returning.
The rendezvous arranged was in what _he_ had called in his letter "the
foyer."
Annesley went slowly down the steps, trying not to look aimless. She
decided to steer for one of the high-back brocaded chairs which had
little satellite tables. Better settle on one in the middle of the hall.
This would give _him_ a chance to see and recognize her from the
description she had written of the dress she would wear (she had not
mentioned that she'd be spared all trouble in choosing, as it was her
only _real_ evening frock), and to notice that she wore, according to
arrangement, a white rose tucked into the neck of her bodice.
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