“That’s what I don’t know.” She was very meek. “I just seemed to think—I wanted it.”
“You couldn’t wear it to church?”
“No-o—” She hesitated. “I could wear it to the opera—if we should go.”
He laughed out. “And to the circus!” He came around and touched her hair where the light fell on it. “How much did it cost—this Chinese thingumabob?”
“Fifty dollars—” It came out slowly—and he whistled softly between his teeth.
“For the opera!” he said.
She threw out her hands. “Of course I didn’t mean it! But you asked me—what I was thinking about——”
“Of course I did!” He was prompt. “And I’ll see what we have—to spare.”
He moved toward the door. “Sure you couldn’t use it for anything else”—he looked back over his shoulder—“except the opera?”
“Well—I could make a kimono of it.” She glanced at him half-pleadingly—then she laughed out. “I don’t want the old thing! I don’t know why I told you!”