"Well, I swan!" he exclaimed. "Either what my head's been the fullest
of lately has struck to my eyesight, or else--why, say, Jim, that's
Caroline, ain't it?"
Pearson colored and seemed embarrassed. "Yes," he answered, "that is
Miss Warren."
"Humph! Good likeness, too! But what kind of rig has she got on? I've
seen her wear a good many dresses--seems to have a different one for
every day, pretty nigh--but I never saw her in anything like that.
Looks sort of outlandish; like one of them foreign girls at Geneva--or
Leghorn, say."
"Yes. That is an Italian peasant costume. Miss Warren wore it at a fancy
dress ball a year ago."
"Want to know! I-talian peasant, hey! Fifth Avenue peasant with diamonds
in her hair. Becomin' to her, ain't it."
"I thought so."
"Yup. She looks pretty ENOUGH! But she don't need diamonds nor
hand-organ clothes to make her pretty."
Then, looking up from the photograph, he asked, "Give you this picture,
did she?"
His friend's embarrassment increased. "No," he answered shortly. Then,
after an instant's hesitation. "That ball was given by the Astorbilts
and was one of the most swagger affairs of the season. The Planet--the
paper with which I was connected--issues a Sunday supplement of
half-tone reproductions of photographs.
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