She wasn't silly.
In reality, Carrie had more imagination than he-more taste.

It was a finer mental strain in her that made possible her depression and loneliness.

Her poor clothes were neat, and she held her head unconsciously in a dainty way.
"DO you think I could get something ?" she asked.
"Sure," he said, reaching over and filling her cup with tea.

"I'll help you." She looked at him, and he laughed reassuringly.
"Now I'll tell you what we'll do.

We'll go over her to Partridge's and you pick out what you want.