She was sitting at her toilet mirror, while Nan lounged in an easy chair, near by.

Patty's golden hair was drawn smoothly down from a central part, and tightly confined at the back of her neck, where it was rolled and twisted into an immense knot, hard and round, that was exceedingly unbecoming.
"It's awful!" declared Nan, "I never saw you look really plain before." "It's all right," and Patty tossed her head.

"That fluffy, curly business is a sign of a light-weight brain,--this arrangement is far more intellectual." "And is that your gown!" Nan fairly gasped, as Patty took from her wardrobe a strange-looking affair of mulberry-coloured woolen goods.
"Yes, it's really stunning, Nan.

I had it made by Alla Blaney's dressmaker, and it's a triumph." "Looks to me as if it had been made by a dressmaker in the house." "Not much! It's a marvel of line and type.

Wait till it's all on." Patty adjusted the shapeless garment, which hung in loose folds from her shoulders, but which, with its muddy hue and clumsy drapery, was decidedly unattractive.