one wouldn't--one couldn't--"

"Sure! Good idea. We'll just get everything to go with it."

"It's the sort of thing one doesn't see worn much outside of
Paris--or New York. If one is--now my mother wouldn't care for that
coat at all." Virginia took no little pride in that tactful finish.

"Can't sidetrack me!" he beamed. "I _want_ it. Very thing I'm
after, Young Lady."

"Well, of course you will have no difficulty in buying the coat
without me," said she, as a dignified version of "I wash my hands of
you." "You can do here as you said you wished to do, simply go in
and pay what they ask. There would be no use trying to get it cheap.
They would know that anyone who wanted it would"--she wanted to say
"have more money than they knew what to do with," but contented
herself with, "be able to pay for it."

But when she had finished she looked at him; at first she thought
she wanted to laugh, and then it seemed that wasn't what she wanted
to do after all. It was like saying to a small boy who was one beam
over finding a tin horn: "Oh well, take the horn if you want to, but
you can't haul your little red waggon while you're blowing the
horn." There seemed something peculiarly inhuman about taking the
waggon just when he had found the horn. Now if the waggon were
broken, then to take away the horn would leave the luxury of grief.
But let not shadows fall upon joyful moments.

With the full ardour of her femininity she entered into the