It was a white muslin, spotted with spots of
opaque white, and founded on something pink. Denry imagined that he had
seen parts of it before--at the ball; and he had; but it was now a
tea-gown, with long, languishing sleeves; the waves of it broke at her
shoulders, sending lacy surf high up the precipices of Ruth's neck.
Denry did not know it was a tea-gown. But he knew that it had a most
peculiar and agreeable effect on himself, and that she had promised him
tea. He was glad that he had paid her the homage of his best necktie.
Although the month was July, Ruth wore a kind of shawl over the
tea-gown. It was not a shawl, Denry noted; it was merely about two yards
of very thin muslin. He puzzled himself as to its purpose. It could not
be for warmth, for it would not have helped to melt an icicle. Could it
be meant to fulfil the same function as muslin in a confectioner's shop?
She was pale. Her voice was weak and had an imploring quality.
She led him, not into the inhospitable wooden academy, but into a very
small room which, like herself, was dressed in muslin and bows of
ribbon. Photographs of amiable men and women decorated the pinkish-green
walls.
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