"I am afraid I must not allow you to call me a girl I believe you have my grandmother's Family Bible. Yes, indeed, Homer nods a great deal more than is consistent with his lofty calling. I am an epicure in frivolling."
"In what?"
"Forgive my school slang! It means that I indulge quite freely enough in concerts, theatres, and in picture-galleries—not to say shop-windows."
"You don't mean to say that you care for shop-windows?" and again Lady Munro's glance rested with satisfaction on Mona's pretty gown, although she was half afraid her niece was laughing at her.
"Oh, don't I? You little know!"
"Pictures, I suppose, and old china and furniture and that sort of thing," said Lady Munro, treading cautiously.
"Yes, I like all those, but I like pretty bonnets too, and tea-gowns and laces and note-paper and—every kind of arrant frivolity and bagatelle. But they must be pretty, you know. I am not caught with absolute chaff."
"You don't care about fashion, you mean."
Mona drew down her brows in deep thought. Clearly she was talking honestly. Then she shook her head with a light laugh.
"I am getting into deep water," she said. "I am afraid I do care about fashion, fashion quâ fashion, fashion pure and simple."