“Mr. Donalds!” she cried. “Oh, Mr. Donalds! This is—oh, this is really too much! I never—I never in my life—”
He thought she was going to cry. She thought so too, for a moment, but with a pretty severe effort she recovered herself. She smiled. That smile completely finished Mr. Donalds.
“Mrs. Fremby,” he said, “one thing more. I believe I told you that I was an importer—”
“I know. I’ve heard of your firm.”
“Mrs. Fremby, I should be honored—it would be a favor to me—if you would come to our showroom to-morrow morning and pick out for yourself any one of the new model gowns from Paris—”
“Paris!” cried Mrs. Fremby. “Never!” Mr. Donalds was startled by her impassioned tone. “I wouldn’t wear a Paris gown—not for anything!”
“Wouldn’t wear a Paris gown!” he repeated, overcome. “I never before heard of a lady—”
Mrs. Fremby held out her hand, and he took it.
“You mustn’t think I don’t appreciate your generosity,” she said. “It’s just a matter of principle.[Pg 257]”
Again their eyes met.