"You are very kind," she answered, "but it is quite a mistake for you to
think that you would disturb me by talking. Allow me to tell you that you
are concealing the real cause of your silence."

"Do you know the real cause?"

"Yes, I think I do."

"Well, what is it?"

"You have changed since you saw my breeches."

"You are right, this black attire has clothed my soul with gloom."

"I am very sorry, but you must allow that in the first place I was not to
suppose that you were going to see my breeches, and in the second place
that I could not be aware that the colour would be distasteful to you."

"True again, but as I chanced to see the articles you must forgive my
disgust. This black has filled my soul with funereal images, just as
white would have cheered me. Do you always wear those dreadful breeches?"

"I am wearing them for the first time to-day."

"Then you must allow that you have committed an unbecoming action."

"Unbecoming?"

"Yes, what would you have said if I had come down in petticoats this
morning? You would have pronounced them unbecoming. You are laughing."