Gently, imperceptibly, it stole into the field of vision and stood there, delicately alluring.

It could afford to wait.

It had not even any pattern to speak of, only an indefinable white something, a dice, a diaper, a sprig.

It was the sprig that touched her, tempted her.
Amongst the poorer ranks of Miss Quincey's profession the sumptuary laws are exceptionally severe.

It is a crime, a treachery, to spend money on mere personal adornment.