with the emphasis of a final decision:

"I won't cut that dress after Emily Warren's pattern. I'll cut it to
suit myself."

I had been falling from a seventh heaven of hope for some time, but at
this moment I struck reality with a thump that almost made me sick and
giddy. The expression of my face reminded her of the irrelevancy of
her remark, and she blushed slightly, but laughed it off, saying:

"Pardon me, that I followed my own thoughts for a moment rather than
yours. These matters, no doubt, seem mere trifles to you gentlemen,
but they are weighty questions to us girls who have to make a little
go a great way. Won't you, please, repeat what you said about that
lady who wrote a book for the sake of its binding? I think it's a
pretty idea."

I was so incensed that I answered as I should not have done. "She was
remarkably successful. Every one looked at the binding, but were soon
satisfied to look no farther."

I was both glad and vexed that she did not catch my meaning, for she
said, with a smile:

"It would make a pretty ornament."

"It would not be to my taste," I replied briefly. "The beautiful
binding would hold out the promise of a good book, which, not being
fulfilled, would be tantalizing."