"And it's cold this morning, awfully." "Cotton vests, marked down--to what wool used to be.

Huh! Call this America ?" "What's wrong, Annie ?" suddenly asked Mary Warren, drawing her wrap closer as she sat.
"I'd go to the lake before I'd go to the streets, though you mightn't think it.

But how about it with only the discards in Derby hats and false teeth left?
If we two are going to get married, Mollie, we got to look around among the remnants and bargains--we can't be too particular when we're hunting bargains.

Whether it's all off for you at the store or not ain't for me to say, but you might do worse than listen to me." Mary Warren looked at her in a sort of horror.

"Annie, what do you mean ?" she demanded.
The real reply came in the hard little laugh with which Annie Squires drew from the pocket of her coat--in which she also was muffled at the breakfast table--a meager little newspaper, close-folded.