Swift Water by Emilie Loring

Author:Emilie Loring
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: fiction
Publisher: Reading Essentials
Published: 1929-03-15T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter XIII

Seated on the mauve and silver bench in the powder-room Jean critically inspected the starry-eyed girl reflected and re-flected. Her dark hair had the sheen of satin. The yellow velvet of her frock accentuated the rich beauty of her brunette skin tinted delicately by the pink light from the lamps.

She fastened long old-fashioned garnet earrings to her ears, shook her head that the light might bring out their ruby sparks. Not gay enough. Somewhere Sue Calvin had seen the statement of a psychologist that red and yellow had an hilarious effect upon the human spirit. She was to test its truth at the dance she was giving tonight. As flasks were taboo—Sue knew her Woman’s Association—she was experimenting with color as a stimulus to gaiety, had asked her guests to wear one or both of the primary colors. Also she had requested that there be no dinners before the dance, she didn’t want the fine edge of the color effect worn off before the party.

Jean removed the earrings, clasped a string of pearls about her throat, held an open fan of stiffened, lacquer-red georgette leaves against the front of her frock. That would do, that with matching bag and slippers. She nodded to the looking-glass girl, approved aloud:

“You look happier than when you first stared back at me. You are busy, that’s the answer. Too bad there is no one here to admire you. If Hughie were at home he would give the little girl a hand.”

She absent-mindedly rubbed her already brilliantly polished nails on a pink palm. He was coming home tonight. Did he know that her mother had planned to leave New York? Nothing particularly strange in that, except that usually she remained in the city until after the holidays. She picked up an open letter on the dressing table. Her brow crinkled as she read the last lines in Madelaine Randolph’s dashing hand:

“As New York seems a barren desert without you, I’m running away tomorrow for a month with friends, closing the apartment. Will be back in time for us to have our Christmas together. I hope your father will be human for once and let me have you that day. Send letters to my literary agent. He will forward them.”

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