She wondered if her green silk gown with the black velvet sleeves was different in style from the gowns the other women were wearing under their furs?
Had sleeves of a different colour from the bodice, which Miss Polly considered the last touch of elegance, really gone out of fashion?
The carriage passed out of the Park, and turning into one of the streets on the upper West Side stopped presently before a small dingy apartment house, where a dozen ragged children were playing leapfrog on the pavement.
"Patty has the top floor--there's a studio." Drawing her skirts away from the children, for her generation feared contact with the lower classes, Mrs.Fowler walked briskly to the low brown steps, on which an ash can stood waiting for removal.

Inside, where the hall smelled uninvitingly of stale cooking, they rang for the elevator under a dim yellow light which revealed a hundred secret lines in their faces.
"I can't imagine how Patty puts up with the place," remarked Patty's mother dejectedly.

"You wouldn't believe the trouble we went to to start her well.

She was the acknowledged beauty of her winter--everybody was crazy about her looks--and the very week before she ran off with Billy she had a proposal from the Duke of Toxbridge.

Of course, if I'd ever dreamed she had a fancy for Billy, I'd have kept him out of her sight instead of allowing him to paint her portrait whenever she had any time she could spare.