“It’s no good. I have come to the conclusion I like dowdiness. I’m not smart. You are.”
“This is the first we have heard of it.”
“Well you know you are. You keep in the fashion. It may be quite right, perhaps you are more sociable than I am.”
“One is so conspicuous if one is not dressed more or less like other people.”
“That’s what I hate; dressing like other people. If I could afford it I should be stylish—not smart. Perfect coats and skirts and a few good evening dresses. But you must be awfully well off for that. If I can’t be stylish I’d rather be dowdy and in a way I like dowdiness even better than stylishness.”
The girls laughed.
“But aren’t clothes awful, anyhow? I’ve spent four and eleven on my knickers and I can’t possibly get a skirt till next year if then, or afford to hire a machine.”
“Why don’t you ask them to raise your salary?”
“After four months? Besides any fool could do the work.”
“If I were you I should tell them. I should say ‘Gentlemen—I wish for a skirt and a bicycle.’”