“Ripping?” repeated Black, his eyes following Miss Ray as she went forward to welcome her first guests. “It’s very plain--and unobtrusive. I shouldn’t have noticed it. She does look distinguished, as you say, but it isn’t the dress, is it?”
Nan laughed. “How that would please her! The dress is plain and unobtrusive--and absolutely perfect in every line! It makes what I’m wearing look so fussy I want to go home and change it! Jane has a genius for knowing how to look like a picture. I suppose that’s the artist in her. Do you know, I think the people who are asked here to-night feel particularly flattered by an invitation from Jane? Isn’t that quite an achievement--for a shopkeeper?”
“That word doesn’t seem to apply to her, somehow,” said Black, and changed the subject rather abruptly. Two minutes later he had left Miss Lockhart, to greet one of his elderly parishioners, a rich widow who bore down upon him in full sail. Nan Lockhart looked after him with an amused expression about her well-cut mouth.
“You didn’t like my calling her a shopkeeper. And you don’t intend to discuss any girl with me or anybody else, do you, Mr. Black?” she said to herself. “All right--be discreet, like the saint you are supposed to be--and really are, for the most part, I think. But you’re pretty human, too. And Fanny Fitch _is_ wearing a frock and hat to-night that I think even you will be forced to notice.”
It was not long before she had an opportunity to test the truth of this prediction. The room filled rapidly, the narrow street outside becoming choked with cars. Among the early comers were Mr. and Mrs. Samuel Lockhart and Miss Fitch. As Fanny appeared in the ever lengthening line of arrivals, Nan found herself waiting with interest for the moment when she should reach Jane Ray and Robert Black, who, as it chanced just then, stood near each other.
No doubt but Miss Fitch was a charmer. Even Nan was forced to admit that she had never seen Fanny more radiant. As she glanced from Fanny to Jane and back again the comparison which occurred to her was that between a gray-blue pigeon and a bird of Paradise! And yet--there was nothing dull about Jane--and nothing flaunting about Fanny. It was not a matter of clothes and colour after all, it was an affair of personality. Jane was beautifully distinguished in appearance--Nan had chosen the right words to describe her--and Fanny was exquisitely lovely to look at. And there you were--simply nowhere in estimating the two, unless you had something more to go by than looks. Nan, with intimate knowledge of Fanny Fitch and an acquaintance with Jane Ray which offered one of the most interesting attractions she had ever felt toward a member of her own sex, found herself wondering how any man who should chance on this evening to meet them both for the first time might succeed in characterizing them, afterward, for the benefit, say, of an invalid mother!