At Saks she bought a lovely spring-green silk dress by Bill Blass and a new pair of evening sandals with heels lower than those she usually wore. She went home, showered, had a light supper, and put on the new dress. She brushed her hair away from her face and high up on the back of her head, with just a few ringlets falling artistically along the white slender-ness of her neck. When she had finished, she surveyed herself in the mirror. The slim bodice and waist of the dress fit her perfectly and the full, soft skirt fell gracefully to just below her knees. Patsy thought with satisfaction of the luck that had made her a perfect size eight and went into the living room to wait for Michael. He was on time and they decided to leave his car with Howard and take a cab to the theater. Michael’s tickets were for the third row in the mezzanine. Patsy draped her lightweight coat around the back of her seat and sat down, calmly ignoring the stares she was provoking from all sides. “Sorry it’s not the orchestra,”
