He admires
very much the ladies of Amerika. Many times he has said
so.
("I'll wager he has--the great, ugly boor!" I
thought, in parenthesis.) "We'll show him!" I said,
aloud. "He won't know you. Such a lot of beautiful
clothes as we can buy with all this money. Oh, dear Frau
Nirlanger, it's going to be slathers of fun! I feel as
excited about it as though it were a trousseau we were
buying."
"So it is," she replied, a little shadow of sadness
falling across the brightness of her face. "I had no
proper clothes when we were married--but nothing! You
know perhaps my story. In America, everyone knows
everything. It is wonderful. When I ran away to marry
Konrad Nirlanger I had only the dress which I wore; even
that I borrowed from one of the upper servants, on a
pretext, so that no one should recognize me. Ach Gott!
I need not have worried. So! You see, it will be after
all a trousseau."
Why, oh, why should a woman with her graceful
carriage and pretty vivacity have been cursed with such
an ill-assorted lot of features! Especially when certain
boorish young husbands have expressed an admiration for
pink-and-white effects in femininity.
"Never mind, Mr.
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