"Oh my God, Florence, this dress is perfect for you! You look so gorgeous in it. I can't even imagine how many people you'll stun if you wear this to your ex-husband's wedding."
Watching Florence Sherman put on the gown, even Grace Winslow couldn't help but sigh in admiration.
Florence Sherman was actually very beautiful, possessing a kind of gentle, androgynous beauty. The magnificent gown didn't overshadow her presence at all. Instead, it became an accessory, accentuating her elegance and grace.
'She really is a high-society lady. The kind of aura and beauty cultivated by immense wealth and a fine education can't be suppressed by anything mundane.'
"Oh, stop complimenting me. I'm not as good as you say," Florence Sherman said, embarrassed by Grace Winslow's praise.
Grace Winslow pulled her over to the mirror. "See for yourself. I'm not exaggerating."
"Wait here a moment. I'll do your makeup and style your hair."
