Mr. Congreve would come into the Gallery.
"There! The first opera of the season, and pretty early for that, too! but I hear they are rather good, and they give 'Bohemian Girl' to-night, so I bought tickets. Shall we go?"
"Yes, it was kind of you. I would like to hear it very much," answered Olive with a pleased smile. "Do you know, I never heard an opera in my life."
"Is it possible?" in intense surprise. "Why, we will go every night they are here, if you say so."
"Oh, no," with an air of reproof. "That would be very nice, but too extravagant. I know money is nothing to you, but then it wouldn't seem right to spend so much for mere pleasure when there are so many poor."
He looked at her in surprise for a moment, but was too modest to tell that he gave twice as much to worthy poor as he ever gave to personal pleasure; so the subject dropped, and they were silent until Olive asked, with a sudden recollection of how she had frequently heard him describe ladies' toilets:
"Do they—I will have to ask you because there is no one else—but do the ladies dress much at opera, here?"
"Just as they please. It is not so popular as formerly. Street dress is mostly worn now."