“But four’s such a heap!” said Eve.
“Nonsense. I’ll make it six if you say another word. Here, bundle off and put on that fawn thing—know it’ll suit you—want to see how you look! I’ll go and choose hats. I’m a whaler on hats.”
So while she changed he went off hatting, to the great joy of the department, and returned with many.
Eve was very quick, and as she came from the little changing-room he had a wild desire to cheer.
“Lord! You look lovely! Here, try some of these. Ain’t I a chooser? This one! Ain’t it a tartar—the very devil of a little hat.”
He was right.
“It!” he cried. “It! Clicks with the dress every time! Keep it on. Here, some of you kind young ladies, this lot for the taxi. Bill! Splendid.”
He shovelled out a handful of notes and they followed their purchases to the street.
“No more,” begged Eve, between laughter and tears. “Not any more today.”
“Gloves—shoes—’brollies must be bought.”