"That damp isn't the rain come through," she went on. "Quite the other way; that's my warmth that did that, they're as impervious as that! And of course they're rather dear. But it's a perfect day for it! There'll be a column of floods and rainfall in all the papers to-morrow, and we're setting all the telephones on the jump now getting the space next to it. You do certify me? I said to Mr. Miller, 'What _is_ the good of sticking a piece of the stuff under a tap in the window? What _does_ it convey to anybody? They only think there's some fake somewhere (advertisers have faked so much, you see), and besides, it's been done.' So I said, 'Why not let somebody go out in this rain in 'em? If they'll stand this they'll stand anything. Then get some known person to certify that at such-and-such a time yesterday (the wettest day for eighteen years) so-and-so arrived as dry as a bone at such-and-such a place, having walked in Ararat Extra Light and Japhet Boots'--but you must feel my stockings too." She sat down in one of Amory's basket-chairs, began to unlace her boots, and presently thrust out for Amory's examination, one after the other, her grey silk-stockinged soles. "So they're mine," Dorothy cried jubilantly, "and if you'll give me your signature I'll get you a set, not to speak of the advertisement for you--can't do without that nowadays--'I, the undersigned, Amory Towers'--if they've never heard of you they daren't say so when they see that.... Those Cosimo's slippers? I'll put 'em on.... I say, you have let your fire down! No, I'll set it going--you fill the kettle--I _have_ enjoyed my walk!" She began to potter about the black fire, gabbling without stopping as she did so.