The only articles upon which, in an unclouded moment, she had set her heart--and that with a sudden passion of covetousness--were a pair of red, high-heeled shoes and a cheap red parasol.
"You have no idea what it means," said Mrs.McMurray, "to buy _everything_ that a woman needs." I replied that I had a respectful distaste for transcendental philosophy.
"From a paper of pins to an opera-cloak," she continued.
"I'm afraid, dear Mrs.McMurray, an opera-cloak is not the superior limit of a woman's needs," said I."I wish it were." She called me a cynic and went.
This morning Carlotta interrupted me in my work.
"Will Seer Marcous come to my room and see my pretty things ?" In summer blouse and plain skirt she looked as demure as any damsel in St.John's Wood.

She hung her head a little to one side.

For the moment I felt paternal, and indulgently consented.

Words of man cannot describe the mass of millinery and chiffonery in that chamber.

The spaces that were not piled high with vesture gave resting spots for cardboard boxes and packing-paper.