There was a stain of wine upon her dress. . . I shall know what to say to him when he comes. You are afraid—that here in London—I shall not be a success. As she hoisted her skirts near her waist, she thought ruefully of the last time she had worn such an elaborate gown, sometime near 1910 when petticoats were still considered hip everyday garb. That is where life takes advantage of youth. . A man's laced hat,—whether adopted from the caprice of the moment, or habitually worn, we are unable to state,—cocked knowingly on her head, harmonized with her masculine appearance. We were worried. ‘I have no idea.
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