The door leading into the back parlour opened, and a little girl about nine or ten years old entered.
“Mother, I want—”
Mrs. Fairfax, without saying a word, gently led the child into the parlour again.
“Dear me, what a pretty little girl! Is that yours?”
“Yes, she is mine.”
Mrs. Bingham noticed that Mrs. Fairfax did not wear a widow’s cap, and that she had a wedding-ring on her finger.
“You will find it rather lonely here. Have you been accustomed to solitude?”
“Yes. That silk, now, would suit you admirably. With less ornament it would be ten guineas.”
“Thank you: I must not be so extravagant at present. May I look at something which will do for walking? You would not, I suppose, make a walking-dress for Langborough exactly as you would have made it in London?”
“If you mean for walking about the roads here, it would differ slightly from one which would be suitable for London.”