"At church on Sunday."
"How beautiful!" exclaimed Selina, as they were slowly walking round the room, to look at the displayed wares: some on stands ranged against the walls, some on a large centre table. The ladies moved from one sight to another with enraptured gaze.
"What is beautiful?" asked Mrs. Cleveland. "That mantle?"
"Which mantle? That old dowdy black silk thing! I meant these sleeves. See; there's a collar to match."
"Yes, ma'am," interrupted one of the assistants, "we never had anything more beautiful in the house."
"What are they?" inquired Selina.
The young woman, attired in black silk only a degree less rich than madame's and a gold chain, her hair arranged in the newest fashion, carried the sleeves to her mistress.
"What am I to ask?" she said in a low tone.
"Twelve guineas."
"It is for Mrs. Dalrymple."