'I feel so sorry for the poor creatures,' she
murmured; 'but they say it gives so much more depth of colour to the
fur.' Her own jacket was certainly a very beautiful specimen."
"When I was editing a paper," I said, "I opened my columns to a
correspondence on this very subject. Many letters were sent to me--
most of them trite, many of them foolish. One, a genuine document,
I remember. It came from a girl who for six years had been
assistant to a fashionable dressmaker. She was rather tired of the
axiom that all women, at all times, are perfection. She suggested
that poets and novelists should take service for a year in any large
drapery or millinery establishment where they would have an
opportunity of studying woman in her natural state, so to speak."
"It is unfair to judge us by what, I confess, is our chief
weakness," argued the Woman of the World. "Woman in pursuit of
clothes ceases to be human--she reverts to the original brute.
Besides, dressmakers can be very trying. The fault is not entirely
on one side."
"I still fail to be convinced," remarked the Girton Girl, "that
woman is over-praised.
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