Lucy waggled out of the gown. "No," she said positively. "I thought you would have more of a selection to choose from."
"Mademoiselle does not comprehend—our creations are made to order," the vendeuse said icily.
"I know, but I thought maybe you'd have something ready I could use," Lucy said blandly.
There was a hasty conference behind a screen and the vendeuse appeared with a pleated chiffon of the pale blue of the costume for the Bison Ball! A crinoline held out the skirts, and the same small roses festooned its bodice.
"I could use that, it's like a long ballet skirt, and that color I can wear."
"It has just been completed for someone else—but since Mademoiselle is leaving in such haste—"
"I'll take it," Lucy said.
A querulous voice was heard and the saleswoman spluttered about a "scandale formidable"—and flew the gown out of the room.
"I am so sorry, Madame," another voice lied, "but the blue chiffon had a flaw. It will be but a week before Madame can have the robe. Madame would not wish a robe which was not perfect."
"Are you ready to leave, Opal?" squawked the voice of Horta Cornwallis in the next room.
"No, I just came. It's too tiresome, my dress isn't finished. Did you see Bernet?"
"Yes. He has had an answer from Nick's lawyer and thinks he can work it out very well. I must hand it to him, he really is the best lawyer in Paris."
The two laughed.
"I told Prince Karabarzoff we'd join him when you've finished here," Horta croaked.
"I want to see about a suit, but I should be through in an hour," Opal said.
I just can't wait that long, I'll miss my train, Lucy thought, and went through the concealing curtains.
"Well, if it isn't Lucy Claudel! How nice to see you," gabbled Horta Cornwallis, as though Nino's party never had happened.
How could I ever have been afraid of that old woman, Lucy thought, and said to them both, "Hello, I'm just leaving, goodbye."
"I don't want the gown at all," Opal told the dressmaker, feeling very sorry for herself at being caught at having ordered a dress so
