ery
body said; at least a dozen said as much to me, and I heard a great many
more saying that same thing to our hostess. All the people really seemed
to have a good time. But somehow I didn't enjoy myself much, and there
are several reasons why. I abominate going out with a stupid man; but
there was no other to go with, so it was an absolute necessity, because
go I must. He brought a shabby, uncomfortable coupe. He had sent ugly,
dabby flowers; and he hung about me the entire evening with the silent,
confident air of the young person who fancies himself engaged to you.
He said nothing; he did nothing--except bring me a melted ice; but he
looked a number of unutterably stupid things. And I heard more than one
woman, in a loud, coarse whisper, say, "I wonder why she came with that
stupid stick of a man?" But, of course, they didn't mean for me to hear
it; they would not be so unkind; but, unfortunately for my comfort, I
did hear, and every word. But that was not all. It's a hard thing for a
woman, in a gay season, to appear each night in a new dress. Of course
you can have one nice, white dress, and change the ribbons--sometimes
pink, sometimes blue, or any color that may happen to strike your
fancy--but sooner or later people will find that out; they will just
know it's the same dress with other ribbons, and it's a social deception
which fashionable society-idiots just will not tolerate. You must appear
in a new dress or an old dress, undisguised. Now, to-night, how was
I to know that Mrs. Babbington Brooks could afford to give so elegant
an affair, or in fact would be able to induce so large a number of
the best and nicest people in town to be present at this, her first
entertainment. People said it was going to be crude, perhaps
disagreeable. So I wore that pale-blue silk--old shade of blue--which
I almost ruined at the Monday-night German. When I entered the
dressing-room four or five of my best girl-friends affectionately kissed
me on the cheek, and exclaimed something about being so glad that I had
worn my pretty, pale-blue silk, and that it was so becoming; and was it
not that same "love-of-a-dress" which I had worn at the Monday-night
German? Now I really would believe those girls malicious if I did not
know they were--each one of the dear, sweet creatures--_perfectly
devoted_ to me; because they have told me of their devotion many
times, and I know they would not say any thing they did not mean--girls
in our set n