Jane Heron took a few graceful gliding steps and came slowly back round the circle of watching women. Clarissa Harlowe’s dress show was in progress, and she was showing a dress called Sigh no More. There was not very much of it above the waist, just a few opalescent folds, but the skirt was new and rather exciting. There were almost more yards of stuff in it than you would have believed possible, all coming in slim and tight to the waist, but they would swirl like spray in the wind when you danced. Jane lifted her arms in a movement which she contrived to make perfectly natural and took a few floating waltz steps. The skirt flew out. A woman close to her drew in her breath with a gasp. Another said, ‘Heavenly! But I mustn’t—I really mustn’t.’ Mrs. Levington raised her rather harsh voice and called across the room to Mrs. Harlowe, ‘I’ll have it—but you mustn’t sell a copy for three months.’ She turned as soon as she had spoken and beckoned to Jane.
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