"We consider that one of our most becoming gowns," she said. "So simple, isn't it? Don't you like the lines? And it's quite a new shade. Angel's blush."
"It's very pretty," said Jasmine.
"Well," said Uncle Matthew, "I suppose you know what you want, and I daresay you're right to choose something simple. It's no good wasting money on a lot of frills. How much is that?"
"That gown," said the show-woman. "Let me see. That's a Paris model. Quite exclusive. Thirty-five guineas."
"What?" the old gentleman yelled. "Come out of the shop, come out of the shop!" he commanded Jasmine.
"I never heard of anything so monstrous in my life," he said indignantly to Jasmine on the pavement outside. "Thirty-five guineas! For a piece of stuff the size of three pocket-handkerchiefs! No wonder you can't afford to go to parties! Well, I made a mistake."
"But, Uncle Matthew," Jasmine explained, "I didn't want to go to a fashionable shop like this. There are lots of other shops where evening frocks don't cost so much."
"You can't have a dress made of less than that," he said.
"It isn't a question of amount. It's a question of cut and material."
But the old gentleman could not bring himself to go to another shop. He had suffered a severe shock, and he wished to be alone.