ply, cut out just enough at the neck, and having for sleeves enormous puffs finished by frills of chiffon that come just below the elbow. Your gloves go up under these ruffles, and are, of course, immaculate. Your hair is prettily dressed, and, following the picture fashion, you have put a white rose just at one side of it. A little heart-shaped brooch fastens your bodice at the neck, and a string of small gold beads is about your throat. You know that, even if you possess them, it would be in bad taste for an unmarried woman to wear diamonds or expensive jewels of any kind. In the dressing-room, after the maid has taken off your wrap and straightened out your skirt, you start to go downstairs, walking just behind your chaperon. The gentleman who is to take you in to dinner has been informed of this in the dressing-room by receiving a card with your name upon it, and so your thoughtful hostess presents him to you, and you have a chat of a minute or two before taking his arm and joining the formal procession to the dining-room. Your name card is at your place, and after the little flutter of getting seated you pick up and look at the bunch of violets that is before you, and, unless you are willing to risk staining your skirt with them or crushing them, you put them on the table just in front of your plate, while your escort fastens in his buttonhole the single orchid intended for him.
