"What on earth sort of a child are you?" he asked.
"How do you mean?"
"Why—I give you a certain amount of money to spend on clothes and you bring me back fifteen pounds like the little girl coming back with change from the grocer's."
"But I've got everything I want," she replied, laughing.
"Have you got an opera cloak?"
"No, I don't want that."
"Have you got an umbrella?"
She laughed again—head thrown back, like a child at its father's knee.
"No, I have one of my own already."
"Did you get a—get a—oh, I don't know—did you get boots for tramping through the country with—boots for show, boots for wear, boots for comfort? How many pair of boots did you get?"