"This for the strange woman," he said, teasingly, "and plain black or grey silk for me, though I am fain to believe that you love me best. Why is it?"
"Because," she responded, playfully, "you know me and love me, even without fuss and frills. For those who do not know us, we must put our best foot forward, in order to make sure of the attention our real merit deserves."
"But doesn't immediately command—is that it?"
"I suppose so."
"What must I wear to the train—my dress suit?"
"Don't be foolish, son. You'll have plenty of time to dress after you get home."
"Shall I drive, or walk?"
"Take the carriage. She'll be tired. Unhappy women are always tired."
"Are they tired because they're unhappy, or unhappy because they're tired? And do they get unhappier when they get more tired, or do they get more tired when they get unhappier?"
The Arrival