LordPeter List Literary Contest

Harriet entered the lounge, waved off coffee or a liqueur, and took a seat at the table. Her shrewd eyes took in the scene at a glance. She reached for some knitting in her bag.

She shook her head as her fingers worked the needles. That young man dancing reminded her of the fishmonger's son back home. He always appeared carefree, but everyone knew he was supporting his aged mother and younger siblings. And that petunia-coloured dress on his partner was all wrong.

Harriet took in the women dressed like finely plumed birds and thought of her own plain garments and fluffy white hair. Autres tempes, autres mondes. She was not so inclined to hide herself behind finery and cosmetics. But gentlemen did like a bit of prettiness about them in her experience.

-- Marjorie Phelps

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