"You like me to do it?"
"I like you to do it."
They stood still a moment.
"Digby," said Rotha again, with a breath of anxiety, "do you care how I am dressed Monday?"
"Do I?—Yes."
He had both arms round her now, and was looking down into her changing face.
"You do not think it need be costly, do you? Mrs. Mowbray has a notion that it ought to be rich."
"Will you let me choose it?"
Rotha hesitated, looked down and looked up.
"It is all yours—" she said, somewhat vaguely, but he understood her.
"Only, remember that I am a poor girl, and it ought not to be costly."