Peace and good will!
He glanced at his orchids and at the red West Indian flowers, and he
thought of those crawling green jungles from which they should have come,
and smiled gently.
Peace and good will!
He went to dress.
* * * * *
Meanwhile, in the Marylebone Road the lady of the feathers achieved
her toilet, assisted by Jessie. The only evening dress that Cuckoo
possessed had been given to her long ago by a young man in the millinery
department of a large London shop. For a week he had adored Cuckoo.
During that week he had presented her with this tremendous gift. She
went into her bedroom now, took it out and looked at it. The gown rustled
a great deal whenever it was moved; this had been the young man's idea.
He considered that the more a gift rustled, the more aristocratic it
was, and, being well acquainted with all the different noises made by
different fabrics, he had selected one with a voice as of many waters.
Cuckoo heard it now as in a dream. She laid it down upon the bed and
regarded it by candle-light. The young man's taste in sound found its
equivalent in his taste in colour. The hue of the gown was also very
loud, the brightest possible green, trimmed with thick yellow imitation
lace.
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