"
Mrs. Bingham was a stout woman with a ruddy complexion.
"One colour costs no more than another?"
"No, madam: twelve guineas; that silk is expensive. Will you not take
a seat?"
"I am afraid you will find twelve guineas too much for anybody here.
Have you nothing cheaper?"
Mrs. Fairfax produced some patterns and fashion-plates.
"I suppose the gown in the window is your own make?"
"My own make and design."
"Then you are not beginning business?"
"I hope I may say that I thoroughly understand it."
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.
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