Lady Twombley.
Bought all we could think of and ordered the rest.
Sir Julian Twombley.
My dear!
Lady Twombley.
Then why don’t they abolish Bond Street? It’s the crucible of London—set your foot in it and everything about you that’s metal dissolves.
Lady Euphemia Vibart.
Aunt has been too extravagant this morning.
Lady Twombley.
Extravagant! I! Oh, no—only I dearly wish there was no such plague as money. If the little words “thank you” were the one universal current coin, what anxieties, what cravings, what follies some poor women would be spared! Why can’t we buy choice stuffs at three-and-a-half thank-yous a yard?