pple body in lines that a sculptor dreams of
and never achieves.

Ray Willets finished straightening her counter. Trade was slow. She
moved idly in the direction of the black-garbed figure that flitted
about in the costly atmosphere of the French section. It must be a very
special customer to claim Miss Jevne's expert services. Ray glanced in
through the half-opened glass and ivory-enamel doors.

"Here, girl," called Miss Jevne. Ray paused and entered. Miss Jevne was
frowning. "Miss Myrtle's busy. Just slip this on. Careful now. Keep your
arms close to your head."

She slipped a marvellously wrought garment over Ray's sleek head. Fluffy
drifts of equally exquisite lingerie lay scattered about on chairs, over
mirrors, across showtables. On one of the fragile little ivory-and-rose
chairs, in the centre of the costly little room, sat a large, blonde,
perfumed woman who clanked and rustled and swished as she moved. Her
eyes were white-lidded and heavy, but strangely bright. One ungloved
hand was very white too, but pudgy and covered so thickly with gems that
your eye could get no clear picture of any single stone or setting.

Ray, clad in the diaphanous folds of the _robe-de-nuit_ that was so
beautifully adorned with delicate embroideries wrought by the patient,
needle-scarred fingers of some silent, white-faced nun in a far-away
convent, paced slowly up and down the short length of the room that the
critical eye of this coarse, unlettered creature might behold the
wonders woven by this weary French nun, and, beholding, approve.

"It ain't bad," spake the blonde woman grudgingly. "How much did you
say?"

"Ninety-five," Miss Jevne made answer smoothly. "I selected it myself
when I was in France my last trip. A bargain."

She slid the robe carefully over Ray's head. The frown came once more to
her brow. She bent close to Ray's ear. "Your waist's ripped under the
left arm. Disgraceful!"

The blonde woman moved and jangled a bit in her chair. "Well, I'll take
it," she sighed. "Look at the colour on that girl! And it's real too."
She rose heavily and came over to Ray, reached up and pinched her cheek
appraisingly with perfumed white thumb and forefinger.

"That'll do, girl," said Miss Jevne sweetly. "Take this along and change
these ribbons from blue to pink."

Ray Willets bore the fairy garment away with her. She bore it tenderly,
almost reverently. It was more than a garment. It represented in her
mind a new standa