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Goldsmith
arrived. She told the suave manager that she was waiting for friends,
but this didn't deter him from employing a magnificent wave of the hand
to summon one of the saleswomen and consigning Rose almost tenderly, to
her care. He didn't know her, but he knew that that ulster of hers had
come straight over from Paris, had cost not less than two hundred
dollars, and had been selected by an excellently discriminating eye; and
that was enough for him.
"I don't want anything just now," Rose told the saleswoman. But she
hadn't, in these few weeks of Clark Street, lost the air of one who will
buy if she sees anything worth buying. In fact, the saleswoman thought,
correctly, that she knew her and was in for a shock a little later when
Mrs. Goldsmith and the other five members of the sextette arrived.
Meanwhile, she showed Rose the few really smart things they had in the
store--a Poiret evening gown, a couple of afternoon frocks from Jennie,
and so on. There wasn't much, she admitted, it being just between
seasons.


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