She had spent, a fortnight with her brother Ballinger on her way home,
and he had given her a set of silver fox: a large muff and two of those
priceless animals head to head to keep a small section of her anatomy at
blood heat in a climate never cold enough for furs.
The day was hot. It was the sort of weather which on the opposite side of
the continent arrives when spring is melting into summer and fortunate
woman arrays herself in thin and dainty fabrics. But women everywhere with
a proper regard for fashion rush the season, and autumn is the time to
display the first smart habiliments of winter. No San Francisco woman of
fashion would be guilty of comfortable garments in the glorious spring
weather of November if she perished in her furs.
The coat, bound with silk braid, was lined with periwinkle blue, and there
was a touch of the same color in her large black velvet hat. Nothing could
make the great irises of her black-gray eyes look blue, but they shone out,
dazzling, under the drooping brim; and if she was, perchance, too warm
above, her scant skirt, her thin silk stockings and low patent leather
shoes struck the balance like a brilliant paradox.
Alexina nodded approvingly at her image in the pier glass, found the key of
her safe deposit box in the cabinet where she had left it, and went down to
the smart little electric car which the gardener had brought to the door.
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