"That shade doesn't suit your complexion.

It ought to be much, much darker--in fact, a different color altogether." Folter was furious, but restrained herself sufficiently to preserve some calmness of tone, although her face turned almost blue with the effort, as she said: "Miss Marston is not long from the country, ma'am, and don't know what's suitable to a London drawing-room." Her mistress was too dejected to snub her impertinence.
"What color were you thinking of, Miss Marston ?" Hesper asked, with a stiffness that would have been more in place had Mary volunteered the opinion she had been asked to give.

She was out of temper with Mary from feeling certain she was right, and believing there was no remedy.
"I could not describe it," answered Mary.

"And, indeed, the color I have in my mind may not be to be had.

I have seen it somewhere, but, whether in a stuff or only in nature, I can not at this moment be certain." "Where's the good of talking like that--excuse me, ma'am--it's more than I can bear--when the ball comes off in a few hours ?" cried Folter, ending with eyes of murder on Mary.
"If you would allow me, ma'am," said Mary, "I should like much to try whether I could not find something that would suit you and your idea too.