"That frock was never evolved in Oldhampton, I'm positive." Molly blushed--not the dull, unbecoming red most women achieve, but a delicate pink like the inside of a shell that made her look even more irresistibly distracting than before.
"No," she admitted reluctantly, "I sent for this from town." Sara glanced at her with quick surprise.

Entirely absorbed in her own thoughts, she had failed to observe the expensive charm of Molly's toilette and now regarded it attentively.

Where had she obtained the money to pay for it?
Only a very little while ago she had been in debt, and now here she was launching out into expenditure which common sense would suggest must be quite beyond her means.
Sara frowned a little, but, recognizing the impossibility of probing into the matter at the moment, she dismissed it from her mind, resolving to elucidate the mystery later on.
Meanwhile, it was impossible to do other than acknowledge the results obtained.

Molly looked more like a stately young empress than an impecunious doctor's daughter as she floated into the room, to be embraced and complimented by the Lavender Lady and to receive a generous meed of admiration, seasoned with a little gentle banter, from Miles Herrick.
Sara experienced a sensation of relief on discovering Miss Lavinia and Herrick to be the only occupants of the room.

Garth Trent had not yet come.