When it was
finished Margaret's skin glowed and shone, was soft and smooth and
exhaled a delicious odor of lilacs. During the exercises Selina
had been getting ready the clothes for the day--everything fresh
throughout, and everything delicately redolent of the same essence
of lilacs with which Selina had rubbed her from hair to tips of
fingers and feet. The clothes were put on slowly, for Margaret
delighted in the feeling of soft silks and laces being drawn over
her skin. She let Selina do every possible bit of work, and gave
herself up wholly to the joy of being cared for.
"There isn't any real reason why I shouldn't be doing this for
you, instead of your doing it for me--is there, Selina?" mused she
aloud.
"Goodness gracious, Miss Rita!" exclaimed Selina, horrified. "I
wouldn't have it done for anything. I was brought up to be
retiring about dressing. It was my mother's dying boast that no
man, nor no woman, had ever seen her, a grown woman, except fully
dressed."
"Really?" said Margaret absently. She stood up, surveyed herself
in the triple mirror--back, front, sides. "So many women never
look at themselves in the back," observed she, "or know how their
skirts hang about the feet.
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