"
At which very moment, Kalora was in an open carriage driving from one
Vienna shop to another, trying to find ready-made garments similar to
those worn by Mrs. Rawley Plumston. Popova was now a bundle-carrier.
The shopping in Vienna was merely a prelude to a riotous extravagance of
time and money in Paris. Popova, writing under dictation, sent a message
to Morovenia to the effect that they had been compelled to wait a week
in order to get comfortable rooms on a steamer.
Kalora had the dressmakers working night and day.
She and her mother and her grandmother and her great-grandmother and the
whole line of maternal ancestors had been under suppression and had
attired themselves according to the directions of a religious Prophet,
who had been ignorant concerning color effects. And yet, now that Kalora
had escaped from the cage, the original instinct asserted itself. The
love of finery can not be eliminated from any feminine species.
When she boarded the steamer she was outwardly a creature of the New
World.
From the moment of embarking she seemed exhilarated by the salt air and
the spirit of democracy.
She lingered in New York--more shopping.
By the time she arrived at Washington and went breezing in to call upon
a certain dignified young Secretary, the transformation was complete.
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