“Then, again she so delicious about my bonnet (not calculated
‘To take upon it
The guilt of her wandering soul’.)
The first time. I saw you in it, nearly disliked you for it—only it was past that.
Not your taste?—Then you oughtn’t to wear what isn’t,—nor to get 14s. 9d. bonnets!
Poke into omnibuses?—Poke away, but wear proper bonnets.
Tottenham Court Road?—No business to go there for bonnets.
No money?—Then you must manage very badly! [Badly!—poor generous child,—counting every halfpenny that she might have the more to give away!]
Your sister?—No, I have nothing to do with her, but I have with you. Buy proper bonnets,—then get them altered—
Whereon I vowed that if she didn’t come to London and choose one, I’d buy the ugliest in Tottenham Court Road.