"Well, then, sure you know I would," confesses she, shyly but honestly. Whereupon rapture ensues that lasts for a full minute.
"Very well, then; I shan't leave you; but you shall have that dress all the same," he says. "How shall we arrange about it?"
"I can give you the size of my waist and my shoulders, and my length," says Mona, thoughtfully, yet with a touch of inspiration.
"And what color becomes you? Blue? that would suit your eyes, and it was blue you used to wear last month."
"Yes, blue looks very nice on me. Geoffrey, if Uncle Brian hears of this, will he be angry?"
"We needn't risk it. And it is no harm, darling, because you will soon be my wife, and then I shall give you everything. When the dress comes I'll send it up to you by my man, and you must manage the rest."
"I'll see about it. And, oh, Geoffrey, I do hope you will like me in it, and think me pretty," she says, anxiously, half fearful of this gown that is meant to transform a "beggar maid" into a queen fit for "King Cophetua." At least such is her reading of the part before her.
And so it is arranged. And that evening Geoffrey indites a letter to Mrs. Manning, Grafton Street, Dublin, that brings a smile to the lips of that cunning modiste.