I was dressing for my husband, and for him I did many things I had never
dreamt of doing before. For him I filed my nails, put cream on my skin,
perfume on my handkerchief, and even rouge on my lips. Although I did
not allow myself to think of it so, I was running a race with Alma.
My maid knew that before I did, and the first night she put me into one
of my uncomfortable new gowns she stood off from me and said:
"His lordship must be a strange gentleman if he can resist you _now_."
I felt ashamed, yet pleased too, and went downstairs with a certain
confidence.
The result was disappointing. My husband smiled rather condescendingly,
and though Alma praised me beyond measure I saw that she was secretly
laughing as she said:
"Our Margaret Mary is coming out, isn't she?"
Nevertheless I persevered. Without too much preparation for so perilous
an enterprise, I threw myself into the gaieties of Cairo, attending polo
matches, race-meetings, picnics at the Pyramids, dances at the different
hotels, and on the island of Roda, where according to tradition,
Pharaoh's daughter found Moses in the bulrushes.
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