Her lace collar was valuable, but
not striking. Her hair was beautiful, both in gloss and color, and
beautifully, but neatly, arranged. Her gloves and wristbands were
perfect.
As every woman aims at appearance, openly or secretly, and every other
woman knows she does, Zoe did not look at this meek dress with male
simplicity, unsuspicious of design, but asked herself what was the
leading motive; and the question was no sooner asked than answered. "She
has dressed for her golden hair and her white throat. Her hair, her deep
gray eyes, and her skin, are just like a flower: she has dressed herself
as the modest stalk. She is an artist."
At the same table were a Russian princess, an English countess, and a
Bavarian duchess--all well dressed, upon the whole. But their dresses
showed off their dresses; the Klosking's showed off herself. And there
was a native dignity, and, above all, a wonderful seemliness, about the
Klosking that inspired respect. Dress and deportment were all of a
piece--decent and deep.
While Zoe was picking her to pieces, Ina, having settled matters with
Ashmead, looked up, and, of course, took in every other woman who was in
sight at a single sweep.
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