s way and that.

Then came the dress from Donovan's, rustling and crisping. She slipped
into it wonderingly, critically, while Fadette worked at the back, the
arms, about her knees, doing one little essential thing after another.

"Oh, Madame!" she exclaimed. "Oh, charmant! Ze hair, it go weeth it
perfect. It ees so full, so beyutiful here"--she pointed to the hips,
where the lace formed a clinging basque. "Oh, tees varee, varee nize."

Aileen glowed, but with scarcely a smile. She was concerned. It
wasn't so much her toilet, which must be everything that it should
be--but this Mr. Addison, who was so rich and in society, and Mr.
Rambaud, who was very powerful, Frank said, must like her. It was the
necessity to put her best foot forward now that was really troubling
her. She must interest these men mentally, perhaps, as well as
physically, and with social graces, and that was not so easy. For all
her money and comfort in Philadelphia she had never been in society in
its best aspects, had never done social entertaining of any real
importance. Frank was the most important man who had ever crossed her
path. No doubt Mr. Rambaud had a severe, old-fashioned wife. How
would she talk to her? And Mrs. Addison! She would know and see
everything. Aileen almost talked out loud to herself in a consoling
way as she dressed, so strenuous were her thoughts; but she went on,
adding the last touches to her physical graces.

When she finally went down-stairs to see how the dining and reception
rooms looked, and Fadette began putting away the welter of discarded
garments--she was a radiant vision--a splendid greenish-gold figure,
with gorgeous hair, smooth, soft, shapely ivory arms, a splendid neck
and bust, and a swelling form. She felt beautiful, and yet she was a
little nervous--truly. Frank himself would be critical. She went about
looking into the dining-room, which, by the caterer's art, had been
transformed into a kind of jewel-box glowing with flowers, silver,
gold, tinted glass, and the snowy whiteness of linen. It reminded her
of an opal flashing all its soft fires. She went into the general
reception-room, where was a grand piano finished in pink and gold, upon
which, with due thought to her one accomplishment--her playing--she had
arranged the songs and instrumental pieces she did best. Aileen was
really not a brilliant musician. For the first time in her life she
felt matronly--as if now she were not a gi