"Look at this handkerchief," interposed Selina, thinking what a dreadful fate Mrs. Cleveland's must be. "I really think it matches the sleeves and collar I have bought. Yes, it does. I must have that."
"That's a dear handkerchief, I know," cried Mrs. Cleveland. "What is it, Madame Damereau?"
"That—oh, but that's recherché, that," said madame, in a rapture. "Nine guineas. Ah!"
"Send it home with the other things," said Selina.
"I am going," said Mrs. Cleveland. "I have bought all I came to buy, and it is of no use staying here to be tempted, unless one has a long purse."
"The truth is, one forgets whether the purse is long or short in the midst of these enchanting things," observed Selina.
"I fear it is sometimes the case," was Mrs. Cleveland's reply. "Are you coming, my dear?"
"Not yet," answered Selina.
Lady, Adela went out with Mrs. Cleveland. She had not given a single order; had not gone with any particular intention of giving one, unless she saw anything especially to take her fancy. But Madame Damereau's was regarded as a favourite lounging place, and the gay world of the gentler sex liked to congregate there.
"Can I drive you anywhere?" asked Adela of Mrs. Cleveland, as they stood on the steps of Madame Damereau's handsome entrance-door. "Will you come home with me?"