What struck Abramka most was that it had no waist line,
that it did not consist of bodice and skirt. That was strange. It was
just caught lightly together under the bosom, which it brought out in
relief. Draped over the whole was a sort of upper garment of exquisite
old-rose lace embroidered with large silk flowers, which fell from the
shoulders and broadened out in bold superb lines. The dress was cut
low and edged with a narrow strip of black down around the bosom,
around the bottom of the lace drapery, and around the hem of the
skirt. A wonderful fan of feathers to match the down edging gave the
finishing touch.
"Well, how do you like it, Abramka!" asked Mrs. Shaldin with a
triumphant smile.
"Glorious, glorious! I haven't the words at my command. What a dress!
No, I couldn't make a dress like that. And how beautifully it fits
you, as if you had been born in it, Mrs. Shaldin. What do you call the
style?"
"Empire."
"Ampeer?" he queried. "Is that a new style? Well, well, what people
don't think of. Tailors like us might just as well throw our needles
and scissors away."
"Now, listen, Abramka, I wouldn't have shown it to you if there were
not this sewing to be done on it.
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