One man hovered attentive about the most beautiful of these, and whispered entertainingly as she scanned the gowns submitted to her choice.

He was a dissolute--looking man, although faultlessly arrayed.

His hair was thin, his eyes were cruel, and his face bespoke self-indulgence.
The expert Merton Gill at once detected that the beautiful young woman he whispered to would be one of those light--headed wives who care more for fashionable dress than for the good name of their husbands.
He foresaw that the creature would be trapped into the power of this villain by her love of finery, though he was sure that the end would find her still a good woman.

The mannequins finished their parade and the throng of patrons broke up.

The cameras were pushed to an adjoining room where the French proprietor of the place figured at a desk.