The black silk had an air of old gentility about it, but it was very shiny; there were many bows, but the ribbons were limp, having been pressed and dyed.

Her face, yellow and deeply wrinkled, but sharply vivacious, was overtopped by a bunch of purple flowers in a nest of rusty black lace and velvet.
So far Mrs.Field had maintained a certain strained composure, but now her long, stern face began flushing beneath this old lady's gaze.
"I conclude you know this lady," said the lawyer, with a blandly facetious air to the new-comer.
At that she stepped forward promptly, with a jerk as if to throw off her irresolution, and a certain consternation.

"Yes, I s'pose I do," said she, in a voice like a shrill high chirp.

"It's Mis' Maxwell, ain't it--Edward's wife?
How do you do, Esther?
I hadn't seen you for so long, I wasn't quite sure, but I see who you are now.

How do you do ?" "I'm pretty well, thank you," said Mrs.Field, with a struggle, putting her twisted hand into the other woman's, extended quiveringly in a rusty black glove.
"When did you come to town, Esther ?" "Jest now." "Let me see, where from?
I can't seem to remember the name of the place where you've been livin'.