All right. I'd love to walk.
They started out in the bright sunglare of a very hot day. Ella held a lace parasol between herself and the burning rays.
Good morning, ladies.
Good morning, Mrs. Baker; Lou addressed her prim neighbour, whom they had encountered on the walk.
That awful woman! the Countess commented. But I don't hate even her today.
They passed two or three boys on bicycles, who doffed their caps; and then a woman on a bicycle, wearing bloomers.
You see, Ella, Lou remarked, with one of her infrequent, feeble attempts at humour, we have the new woman here, too. I don't think bloomers are very fin de siècle, do you? Woman's greatest charm—she was perfectly serious now—is her dignity, and no woman outside long skirts is dignified.
I agree with you, the Countess responded heartily. I like dresses with long trains, the longer the better. I wish they were wearing them longer now. The present Paris fashions decree that robes shall just touch the ground, and that is all.
Now they were passing the double-house sheltering Mrs. Bierbauer and Mrs. Fox. As usual, those two females were rocking backwards and forwards on their porches.
Who are those ridiculous women, Lou? Ella
