Miss Silver – #16, 1949

Jane Heron took a few graceful gliding steps and came slowly back round the circle of watching women. Clarissa Harlowe’s dress show was in progress, and she was showing a dress called Sigh no More. There was not very much of it above the waist, just a few opalescent folds, but the skirt was new and rather exciting. There were almost more yards of stuff in it than you would have believed possible, all coming in slim and tight to the waist, but they would swirl like spray in the wind when you danced. Jane lifted her arms in a movement which she contrived to make perfectly natural and took a few floating waltz steps. The skirt flew out. A woman close to her drew in her breath with a gasp. Another said, “Heavenly! But I mustn’t-I really mustn’t.” Mrs. Levington raised her rather harsh voice and called across the room to Mrs. Harlowe, “I’ll have it-but you mustn’t sell a copy for three months.” She turned as soon as she had spoken and beckoned to Jane.

“Come here! I want to see how it fastens.”

Jane came with the graceful submissive air which was part of the job. Inwardly she was thinking that Mrs. Levington wouldn’t get into the dress by at the very least four inches. She wasn’t fat, but she was solid-rather high in the shoulder, rather square in the hip. Handsome, of course, if you liked them that way. Jane didn’t.

It wasn’t her business to mind who bought Clarissa Harlowe’s dresses-they were out of her reach, and always would be. She was there because her really lovely figure added at least twenty-five per cent to the price.

Mrs. Harlowe came up, brisk, businesslike, smartly tailored.

“That will be quite all right, Mrs. Levington. You can have a fitting tomorrow at ten-thirty. No, I’m afraid I can’t make it any other time-we are very busy.”