there, and hung them up as leisurely as I could.

"Nance," I said under my breath, to the alert-eyed, pug-nosed girl in
the mirror, who gave a quick glance about the room as I bent to wash my
hands, "women stare 'cause they're women. There's no meaning in their
look. If they were men, now, you might twitter."

I smoothed my hair and reached out my hand to get my hat and jacket
when--when--

Oh, it was long; long enough to cover you from your chin to your heels!
It was a dark, warm red, and it had a high collar of chinchilla that
was fairly scrumptious. And just above it the hat hung, a red-cloth
toque caught up on the side with some of the same fur.

The black maid misunderstood my involuntary gesture. I had all my best
duds on, and when a lot of women stare it makes the woman they stare at
peacock naturally, and--and--well, ask Tom what he thinks of my style
when I'm on parade. At any rate, it was the maid's fault. She took
down the coat and hat and held them for me as though they were mine.
What could I do, 'cept just slip into the silk-lined beauty and set the
toque on my head? The fool girl that owned them was having another
maid mend a tear in her skirt, over in the corner; the little place was
crowded. Anyway, I had both the coat and hat on and was out into the
big anteroom in a jiffy.

What nearly wrecked me was the cut of that coat. It positively made me
shiver with pleasure when I passed and saw myself in that long mirror.
My, but I was great! The hang of that coat, the long, incurving sweep
in the back, and the high fur collar up to one's nose--even if it is a
turned-up nose--oh!

I stayed and looked a second too long, for just as I was pulling the
flaring hat a bit over my face, the doors swung, as an old lady came
in, and there behind her was that same curious man's face with the cap
above it.

Trapped? Me? Not much! I didn't wait a minute, but threw the doors
open with a gesture that might have belonged to the Queen of Spain. I
almost ran into his arms. He gave an exclamation. I looked him
straight in the eyes, as I hooked the collar close to my throat, and
swept past him.

He weakened. That coat was too jolly much for him. It was for me,
too. As I ran down the stairs, its influence so worked on me that I
didn't know just which Vanderbilt I was.

I got out on the sidewalk all right, and was just about to take a car
when the turnstile swung round, and there was that same man with