But you haven't told me
about the comedy."
She thrust forward one of her pretty slippers.
"Do you see that?" she demanded.
"I suppose you expect me to say that I see the prettiest foot in
Boston."
"Thank you again, but I'm not yet reduced to trying to drag compliments
out of you, Chauncy. I sha'n't do that till the other men fail me. It's
the slipper I wanted you to notice, and these ravishing stockings."
"If the comedy has stockings in it," he began; but she stopped him.
"There, no impudence," she said. "Did you ever see anything so
entirely heavenly as those stockings and slippers? I declare I've
wanted ever since I put them on to keep my feet on the table to look
at."
"You might do worse."
"Oh, I'm going to."
"Indeed! It's apparently getting time for me to interfere. What's your
game?"
"I'm going to squelch that detestable Fred Rangely."
"How?"
"My slippers," Elsie said vivaciously, again thrusting one of them
forward, "are ravishing."
"Gad," her husband returned, regarding her with a look of the utmost
amusement in his topaz-brown eyes, "you have a good deal to say about
them.
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