The Shadow and the Star Read Online Free PDF Page B

she determined to do nothing so coarse as to expire of shame in company. She put her head down and calmly aided Queen Kapiolani in her decision on the emerald glazed. She helped Lady Catherine and her mother choose a suitable pattern for the morning dress. She listened to the easy talk between Mr. Gerard and all the ladies from Hawaii, who would not let him go now that he was in their power. It was obvious that they knew one another as well as any family: even the large and elegant Hawaiian ladies treated him with a motherly air, smiling indulgently when the others scoffed and rode him for his masculine discomfort at voicing aloud his opinion of the fashions. And in an amiable, teasing way, Lady Catherine took his verdict as law, discarding any pattern that he did not approve.
    In love
, Leda thought.
Of course. Why not
?
    Leda stood by, providing fashion books, changing dresses on the stuffed model, showing Lady Catherine to a fitting room when the girl declared in her stout Americanish way that it was nonsensical to trouble a first hand to go all the way to her hotel "at her convenience," when she was right here to be measured. And then suddenly it was all over, and Leda was curtsying as Mr. Gerard took

Her Majesty's arm and escorted her into the hall. The princess and Lady Ashland followed.
    Lady Catherine paused a moment, laid a hand on Leda's arm, and said, "Thank you. Indeed—I've always said that I hate going to the dressmaker's, but this has been quite fun!"
    Leda nodded and forced a smile, in terror that this naive girl was going to push a tip into her hand, as if she were a gamekeeper or a chambermaid. But Lady Catherine only pressed her arm in a friendly way and let go, hurrying out after her mother.
    Leda turned back to the counter, snapped up the coronetted letter, and hammered upstairs all the way to the empty dormitory hall before she stopped, panting, and tore it open.
     
    My Dear Mademoiselle Etoile:
    I admired you from afar at the ball Tuesday last, as you laboured in company with Madame Elise to make your busy repairs to the ladies' gowns. But such a one should have her own pretty toilette, I believe, and I would be honored if you would allow me to serve you with the same, in the way of a dress worthy of you.
    Devoutly at your command,
    Herringmore
     
    Leda crushed it in her fists and ripped it apart. She would not bear this; she would not be insulted so—"admired from afar"—oh, the indecency of it! She did not even know who this "Herringmore" might be, and most certainly had no wish to be introduced. The common, wretched vulgarity of it, to be ogled as if she were some loose servant girl!
    She should have become a typist. All the ladies of South Street had been against it, as being a forward and pushing occupation, unsuitable for a gently brought-up female. But typists were not forced to abide
this
, surely!
    Admired from afar, indeed! The insolence!
    She drummed down the stairs, tossing the shreds of the note out the open window on the landing. In the bathroom, she pulled the cockade out of her hair and almost twisted her back in her haste to get at the buttons and remove herself from the hateful dress.
    In her own skirt and blouse, she marched back to the showroom to confront Madame Isaacson-Elise, that false, revolting hussy—and blow up all bridges sky-high behind her.
     
    The walk from Regent Street to Bermondsey was long enough that Leda had always taken an omnibus or the railway when she was in funds. Her neighborhood now was dreadful, on the outer edge of what she feared she might find was a very great rookery slum if she had ever summoned up the courage to penetrate a few streets farther. But she had counted herself fortunate to find a single room there after she'd discovered that on two pound ten a month, which had seemed a very good wage initially, she was far too poor for the parlor flat she'd taken first in Kensington. It had required a certain amount of time for the reality of her new