xperience!

Emily's economical soul clamoured for Oxford Street. I stood out for
Bond, and got my way. (You will grin here. You say I always do get my
way.) My idea was to make of myself a kind of Last Resort, or Court of
Appeal. I meant to let Emily advise, but to sweep her aside if she
perpetrated atrocities. The first shop, however, went to my head. It was
one of those where you walk into a kind of drawing-room with figurines,
or whatever you call them--slender, headless ladies in model
dresses--grouped about, and other equally slender, but long-headed
ladies in black satin trains, showing off their dummy sisters.

It was the figurines that intoxicated me. I saw Ellaline's head--in
imagination--coming out at the top of all the prettiest dresses. They
were wonderfully simple, too, the most attractive ones; seemed just the
thing for a young girl. Emily walked past them as if they were vulgar
acquaintances trying to catch her eye at a duchess's ball, but they
trapped me. There was a white thing for the street, that looked as if it
had been made for Ellaline, and a blue fluff, cut low in the neck,
exactly the right colour to show up her hair. Then there was a film of
pink, with wreaths of little rosebuds dotted about--made me think of
spring. (I told you I'd lost my head, didn't I?)

I stopped my ward, pointed out these things to her, and asked her if she
liked them. She said she did, but they would be horribly expensive. She
wouldn't think of buying such dreams. With that, up swam one of the
satin ladies (whose back view was precisely like that of a wet, black
codfish with a long tail; I believe she was "Directoire"); and hovering
near on a sea of pale-green carpet she volunteered the information that
these "little frocks" were "poems," singularly suited to the style of--I
expected her to say my "daughter." Instead of which, however, she
finished her sentence with a "madam" that brought a blush to my
weather-beaten face. I was the only one concerned who did blush,
however, I assure you! The girl smiled into my eyes, with a mischievous
twinkle, and minded not at all. A former generation would have simpered,
but this young person hasn't a simper in her.

I said "Nonsense," she could well afford the dresses. She argued, and
Emily returned to help her form up a hollow square. They were both
against me, but I insisted, and the codfish was a powerful ally.

"Would they fit you?" I asked the girl.

"Yes, they would fit m