“No, no, no! My trunk hasn’t come, and this is only my old rag of yesterday--but I never knew the trick to fail!” And, as he stared: “You see,” she joyously explained, “I’ve always had to dress in all kinds of dreary left-overs, and sometimes, when everybody else was smart and new, it used to make me awfully miserable. So one day, when Mrs. Murrett dragged me down unexpectedly to fill a place at dinner, I suddenly thought I’d try spinning around like that, and say to every one: ‘WELL, WHAT DO YOU THINK OF ME?’ And, do you know, they were all taken in, including Mrs. Murrett, who didn’t recognize my old turned and dyed rags, and told me afterward it was awfully bad form to dress as if I were somebody that people would expect to know! And ever since, whenever I’ve particularly wanted to look nice, I’ve just asked people what they thought of my new frock; and they’re always, always taken in!” She dramatized her explanation so vividly that Darrow felt as if his point were gained. “Ah, but this confirms your vocation--of course,” he cried, “you must see Cerdine!” and, seeing her face fall at this reminder of the change in her prospects, he hastened to set forth his plan. As he did so, he saw how easy it was to explain things to her. She would either accept his suggestion, or she would not: but at least she would waste no time in protestations and objections, or any vain sacrifice to the idols of conformity. The conviction that one could, on any given point, almost predicate this of her, gave him the sense of having advanced far enough in her intimacy to urge his arguments against a hasty pursuit of her friends. Yes, it would certainly be foolish--she at once agreed--in the case of such dear indefinite angels as the Farlows, to dash off after them without more positive proof that they were established at Joigny, and so established that they could take her in. She owned it was but too probable that they had gone there to “cut down”, and might be doing so in quarters too contracted to receive her; and it would be unfair, on that chance, to impose herself on them unannounced. The simplest way of getting farther light on the question would be to go back to the rue de la Chaise, where, at that more conversable hour, the concierge might be less chary of detail; and she could decide on her next step in the light of such facts as he imparted. Point by point, she fell in with the suggestion, recognizing, in the light of their unexplained flight, that the Farlows might indeed be in a situation on which one could not too rashly intrude. Her concern for her friends seemed to have effaced all thought of herself, and this little indication of character gave Darrow a quite disproportionate pleasure. She agreed that it would be well to go at once to the rue de la Chaise, but met his proposal that they should drive by the declaration that it was a “waste” not to walk in Paris; so they set off on foot through the cheerful tumult of the streets.