She laughed and turned to the mirror to complete her toilette, and in less than an hour’s time she and Sophy Lansing had finished their breakfast and were out together in Bond Street, exploring the mysteries of the newest Aladdin’s palace of elegant garments, where the perfect taste and deft fingers of practised Parisian fitters soon supplied all that was needed to suit Diana’s immediate requirements. At one very noted establishment, she slipped into a “model” gown of the finest navy serge, of a design and cut so admirable that the _couturier_ could hardly be said to flatter when he declared that “Madame looked a princess in it.” “Do princesses always look well?” she asked, with a quaint little uplifting of her eyebrows. The great French tailor waved his hands expressively. “Ah, Madame! It is a figure of speech!” Diana laughed,--but she purchased the costume, Sophy whispering mysteriously in her ear: “Let us take it with us in the automobile! One never knows!--they might change it! And you’ll never get anything to suit you more perfectly.” Miss Lansing was worldly-wise; she had not gained the reputation of being one of the best-dressed women in London without learning many little ins and outs of “model” gowns which are hidden from the profane. Many and many a time had she been “taken in,” on this deep question,--many a “model” had she chosen, leaving it to be sent home, and on receipt had found it to be only a clever “copy” which, on being tried on, had proved a misfit. And well she knew that complaint was useless, as the tailor or modiste who supplied the goods would surely prove a veritable Ananias in swearing that she had received the “model,” and the model only. On this occasion she had her way, and, despite the deprecating appeal of the _couturier_ that he might be allowed to send it, the becoming costume was packed and placed safely in the automobile, and she and Diana drove off with it. “You never _could_ look better in anything!” declared Sophy. “Promise me you’ll wear it when you make your first call on Dr. Dimitrius!” “But, my dear, it may be too much for him!” laughed Diana. “He wants ‘a courageous and determined woman of mature years,’--and so charming a Paris costume may not ‘dress’ the part!” “Never mind whether it does or not,” said Sophy. “I can’t believe he wants an old frump! You may not believe me, Di, but you look perfectly fascinating in that gown--almost young again!” Diana’s blue eyes clouded with a touch of sadness. She sighed a little. “Almost!--not quite!” she answered. “But--‘dress does make a difference!’--there’s no doubt of it! These last few years I’m not ashamed to say I’ve longed for pretty clothes--I suppose it’s the dying spirit of youth trying to take a last caper! And now, with all these vanity purchases, I am horribly in your debt. Dear Sophy, how shall I ever repay you?”