On this
particular evening he was anything but the man of iron she had
known--until she ventured to speak of Ed. Then he closed up like a
trap. He was almost gruff in his refusal to say a word about her
husband.
Because of Ed's appropriation of the ranch cash, Alaire found it
necessary a few days later to go to the bank, and, feeling the
need of exercise, she rode her horse Montrose. When her errands
had been attended to, she suddenly decided to call on Paloma
Jones. It was years since she had voluntarily done such a thing;
the very impulse surprised her.
Paloma, it happened, was undergoing that peculiar form of feminine
torture known as a "fitting"; but insecurely basted, pinned, and
tucked as she was, she came flying down to the gate to meet her
visitor.
Alaire was introduced to Mrs. Strange, the dressmaker, a large,
acidulous brunette, with a mouthful of pins; and then, when Paloma
had given herself once more into the seamstress's hands, the two
friends gossiped.
Since Mrs. Strange was the first capable dressmaker who had ever
come to Jonesville, Paloma had closed her eyes and plunged with
reckless extravagance. Now the girl insisted upon a general
exhibition of her new wardrobe, a sort of grand fashion review,
for the edification of her caller, in the course of which she
tried on all her dresses.
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