The price of the gown was a thousand dollars, and Mrs.Pletheridge's favourable decision was worth exactly that much in terms of money to Dinard's.

As the season had been scarcely a brisk one, Madame was particularly anxious to have her more extreme models taken off her hands.

"It was unpacked only yesterday," she lied suavely, "and no one else has had so much as a glimpse of it." "I can't imagine what is the matter with it," Mrs.Pletheridge sighed dejectedly, while she regarded her ample form with a resentful and critical gaze.

As long as one had nothing else to worry about, Madame reflected without sympathy, one might find cause for positive distress in the fact that a gown appeared to better advantage in the hand than on one's person.

The truth--and the truth, as sometimes happens, was the last thing Mrs.Pletheridge cared to admit--was that she had grown too stout to wear pronounced fashions.
"Nothing could be more charming," insisted Madame with increased effusion, "but if you are in doubt, let us ask the opinion of Mrs.Carr.
She has the true eye of the artist--a wonderful eye.