Yes, I should think a fan would
please her more than anything. After our birthdays are over we inspect
each other's muster of presents, and I always feel dreadfully humble. She
gets such nice things, and I never have anything worth showing. You see,
none of my relations or any of the people who give me presents are at all
well off, so I can't expect them to do anything more than just remember
the day with some little trifle. Two years ago an uncle on my mother's
side of the family, who had come into a small legacy, promised me a
silver-fox stole for my birthday. I can't tell you how excited I was
about it, how I pictured myself showing it off to all my friends and
enemies. Then just at that moment his wife died, and, of course, poor
man, he could not be expected to think of birthday presents at such a
time. He has lived abroad ever since, and I never got my fur. Do you
know, to this day I can scarcely look at a silver-fox pelt in a shop
window or round anyone's neck without feeling ready to burst into tears.
I suppose if I hadn't had the prospect of getting one I shouldn't feel
that way. Look, there is the fan counter, on your left; you can easily
slip away in the crowd. Get her as nice a one as you can see--she is
such a dear, dear girl."
"Hullo, I thought I had lost you," said Suzanne, making her way through
an obstructive knot of shoppers. "Where is Bertram?"
"I got separated from him long ago. I thought he was on ahead with you,"
said Eleanor.
Pages:
203
204
205
206
207
208
209
210
211
212
213
214
215
216
217
218
219
220
221
222
223
224
225
226
227