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Rh on parade. I suppose there are distinctions in class. There must be some shopgirls in this crowd. Can you distinguish them?” he asked.

“Oh, yes. Not by cut, for the general line is the same for ‘Judy O’Grady and the Captain’s Lady,’ but there is a subtle difference to the feminine eye.”

“But you don’t look like all the rest of them.”

“No, alas, I look distinctly suburban. All I need is a package to make the disguise complete. Oh, Jarvis, do let’s hurry and make much red gold, so I can look like these finished things that trip up Fifth Avenue.”

“You want to be like them—like those dolls?” he scorned, with a magnificent gesture.

“Yes. I’d like to be so putrid with wealth that I could have rows of wardrobe trunks, with full sets of clothes for every me.”

“How many of you are there?”

“Oh, lots. I’ve never counted myself. Some days I’d dress up like a Broadway siren, some days I’d be a Fifth Avenue lady, or a suburbanite, or a reformer, or a ballet dancer, or a visitor from Boston.”

“What would I be doing while you were all these?”