"Black tulle," said Reherrey, with his air of cool indifference, "black
gauze, black cotton..."

It had to be black sateen in the end. "Now you!" said Reherrey, when he
had bought six yards at eight francs a yard.

"White ... something ... for me."

There was white nothing under sixteen francs a yard. "But cheap, cheap,
CHEAP stuff," she expostulated--"stuff you would make lampshades of,
or dusters. It's only for a fancy dress." The idle little girls assumed
a special air. Fanny looked round the shop in desperation. It was like
all the shops in Metz--the window dressed, the saleswomen ready, the
shelves scrubbed out and polished, the lady waiting at the pay desk--but
the goods hadn't come!

Here and there a shelf held a roll or two of some material, and
eventually Fanny bought seven yards of white soft stuff at seven
francs a yard.

"White," said Reherrey, with a critical look; "how _English_!"

Fanny had an idea of her own.

"_Wo_," she said heavily to Elsa's mother still later in the evening,
"_ist eine Schneiderin?_"

"A dressmaker who speaks French...."

Elsa took her out into the dark street again, and in at a neighbouring