She had quite agreed with Pauline that it would be foolish to go to the
expense of taking their tickets beforehand. She opened the door with her
latch-key--that latch-key still gave her a thrill of proud delight when
she used it--and went in.
Pauline called to her from her room.
"Rosie, is that you, dearest? I want to speak to you."
Rose put down her violin and crossed the tiny entry. Pauline was standing
before her looking-glass doing her hair. She wore a soiled pink
dressing-jacket elaborately trimmed with lace, and Rose observed with a
little shock that there were holes in the heels of her stockings. It was
not quite such a shock as it would have been a fortnight ago. Rose had
discovered that Pauline was very careless about little matters of this
sort. On the bed was spread out her last new dress--a charming combination
of brown and gold, to be worn with a brown hat lined with yellow.
"Why, Pauline, you won't wear that dress this afternoon, will you?" asked
Rose, glancing at it. "It will get so crushed."
"My Rose, shall you be very disappointed? Madame Verney has asked me to go
with her. She had two tickets sent her, and Monsieur Verney had to go to
Paris this morning. I am going there to lunch. How I wish you were going
with me, darling! But I could not refuse when Madame Verney asked me,
could I? I might have offended her.
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