Her stockings were apple-green silk, and, despite the chill of the day, her feet were shod in enticingly low slippers with brass buckles.
Cowperwood retired to the hall to hang up his overcoat and came back smiling.
"Isn't Mrs.Cowperwood about ?" "The butler says she's out calling, but I thought I'd wait a little while, anyhow.

She may come back." She turned up a dark, smiling face to him, with languishing, inscrutable eyes, and he recognized the artist at last, full and clear.
"I see you like my bracelet, don't you ?" "It's beautiful," she replied, looking down and surveying it dreamily.
"I don't always wear it.

I carry it in my muff.

I've just put it on for a little while.

I carry them all with me always.