She felt a little ashamed of herself, a bit of a hypocrite. ‘A little promenade, madame?’ Madame Valade rose from the chintz-covered chair with alacrity and a little rustle of her silken petticoats. It was a gray day in the spring of 1910. "Quilt Arnold called this morning to say so. And now you must go back, take up your work and think all this over. Wouldn't it be fun to see his name on a book-cover some day? He'll go strutting up and down without ever dreaming he owed the whole shot to us. Your Mom says to come downstairs for dessert.
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