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Updated: May 28, 2025
It seemed to Billy that women of almost all sorts were there, young, old, and middle-aged; students in tailored suits, widows in crape and veil; girls that were members of a merry party, women that were plainly forlorn and alone. Some in the line shuffled restlessly; some stood rigidly quiet. One had brought a camp stool; many were seated on the steps.
Her wild eyes were startling under the brim of her smart, tailored hat. Jasper put a hand on either of her shoulders and bent his head before her. "My poor child if I'd only left you in your kitchen!" Joan tightened her lips, then smiled uncertainly. "You've got me scared," she said, stepped back and sat down, her hands in her muff.
The light, gushing from the opaque hood, made the safe door a glare, and was thrown back into her intent, masked face, throwing out in sharp silhouette her lithe, sweet body, indisputably identified by the individual poise of her head and shoulders and the gracious contours of her tailored coat.
Here the little steno in the green tarn is Lais of Corinth, the dowager alighting from the electric is Zenobia. Illusions dress the entire procession. Semiramis, Leda, and tailored nymphs; dryad eyes gleam from powder-white masks. Or, if the classics bore you, Watteau and the rococo pertness of the Grand Monarch. And there are Gothic noses, Moorish eyebrows, Byzantine slippers.
"Show him in," instructed Compton, and a moment later Jimmy entered a rehabilitated Jimmy. Upon his excellent figure the ready-maid suit had all the appearance of faultlessly tailored garments.
"What does a fellow like you come to a place like this for?" he asked bluntly. "Why tennis," conceded the Younger Man. "A little tennis. And golf a little golf. And and " "And girls," asserted the Older Man with precipitous conviction. Across the Younger Man's splendidly tailored shoulders a little flicker of self-consciousness went crinkling. "Oh, of course," he grinned.
I had almost forgotten what might be occurring within, until aroused by the sound of Le Gaire's voice. He certainly looked a handsome fellow, standing there with hand still on the knob of the door, dressed in a new uniform tailored to perfection, his lips and eyes smiling pleasantly, never suspecting the reason for which he was summoned. "What is it, Billie?" he asked easily. "A last word, hey?"
Winifred, whom he noticed next to the furniture, was sitting at her Buhl bureau with a letter in her hand. She rose and came towards him. Tall as himself, strong in the cheekbones, well tailored, something in her face disturbed Soames. She crumpled the letter in her hand, but seemed to change her mind and held it out to him. He was her lawyer as well as her brother.
The tall, carefully tailored negro spread his wide nostrils, vacillating whether to sniff it out with disfavor or to admit it for the sudden mental associations it evoked. It was a faint, pungent smell that played in the back of his nose and somehow reminded him of his mother, Caroline Siner, a thick-bodied black woman whom he remembered as always bending over a wash-tub.
"Yes, yes but what do you wager there is there?" questioned Georgiana. "I can tell you before I take the cover off. Three evening gowns, frivolous and impossible for a little town like this; one draggled lingerie frock, two evening coats, and possibly just possibly a last year's tailored suit, with a tear in the front of the skirt and not a scrap of goods to make a fold to cover it.
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