For her, a telegram had never contained any space limit.

It meant less to her than a post-card to you or me.

Not that the girl was consciously extravagant.
No, had you asked her, she would have claimed rigid economy--she rarely, for instance, paid more than a hundred dollars for a morning gown, or more than a thousand for a ball-dress.

It was simply that the idea of counting words had never yet occurred to her.

And so now, she complacently handed this verbose message to the clerk, who--thoroughly well-trained--understood it was to be charged on her father's perfectly staggering monthly bill.
"Very well, Miss Flint," said he.