In fact, there was not an article of dress, glove, shoe, or parure that answered expectations; not a modiste or fabricant of any kind that had not betrayed trust. And so restricted as they were to expression,—hardly daring to breathe under their laces or lift an eyebrow under their hairpins! Each one yielded unreservedly to her own panic, but strove to infuse courage into the others.
"Chére, you look lovely!" imprinting prudent little kisses in undamageable spots.
"You are so good, you only say that to console me."
"But I assure you, Doucette!"
"Ah, if I only looked as well as you!"
"What an exquisite toilet!"
"No, chérie! You can't conceal it, it is unbecoming!"
"But, on my word of honor!"
"My dear, it is not to flatter, but you look like an angel!"
"No, it is all over with me, I told maman! I did not wish to come."
"My hair is getting limp already."
The weather was really turning warm and moist, as if purposely to relax their curls.
