"It seems incredible," said the girl. "Can it be right to spend so
much money for things to wear?"

But Oliver was not discussing questions of ethics; he was examining
sets of tinted crepe de chine lingerie, and hand-woven hose of spun
silk. There were boxes upon boxes, and bureau drawers and closet
shelves already filled up with hand-embroidered and lace-trimmed
creations-chemises and corset-covers, night-robes of "handkerchief
linen" lawn, lace handkerchiefs and veils, corsets of French coutil,
dressing-jackets of pale-coloured silks, and negligees of soft
batistes, trimmed with Valenciennes lace, or even with fur.

"You must have put in a full day," he said.

"I never looked at so many things in my life," said Alice. "And Mr.
Mann never stopped to ask the price of a thing."

"I didn't think to tell him to," said Oliver, laughing.

Then the girl went in to dress--and Oliver faced about to find his
brother sitting and staring hard at him.

"Tell me!" Montague exclaimed. "In God's name, what is all this to
cost?"

"I don't know," said Oliver, impassively. "I haven't seen the bills.
It'll be fifteen or twenty thousand, I guess."

Montague's hands clenched involuntarily, and he sat rigid. "How long