But when Sir Robert asked her which of the two she would have, she persisted in her exaggerated humility and listlessness, and said it was for him to decide.
Without showing the least impatience, Sir Robert decided for her upon the right mantle, paid the eight hundred pounds which was the price of it, and had it put into the taxi-cab. There was no change in Lady Sarah’s expression as she left the shop and heard her husband give the address of a fashionable milliner.
“Am I to get out?” she asked when the taxi stopped at the door.
Quite unmoved, Sir Robert said:
“I think so.”
And they entered the shop together.
If there was one place in this world in which Lady Sarah was happier than in another, it was a hat-shop. But in spite of the temptation of the latest creations around her, she contrived triumphantly to carry out of the shop, as she carried it in, her air of listless indifference to everything around her. She submitted to have one hat tried on after another, an occupation in which she usually delighted.
Whether they suited her ill or well, not a sign of interest did she give, and she allowed her husband to choose her headgear for her as he had chosen the mantle.
Nothing daunted by her malice, Sir Robert took her to the best boot-shop in London, and finally to a jeweller’s, where he chose a beautiful pendant of diamonds, pearls and emeralds, her favourite combination of gems.
Lady Sarah preserved the same stolidity, the same indifference throughout, and when they took their places in the train to return to Dourville, she did not even take the trouble to pick up one of her parcels when it fell on the floor.