She begged boldly of Mrs. Cholmondeley--boldly, I say: not with an air
of reluctant shame, but in this strain:--
"My darling Mrs. C., I have nothing in the world fit to wear for your
party next week; you _must_ give me a book-muslin dress, and then
a _ceinture bleu celeste_: _do_--there's an angel! will you?"
The "darling Mrs. C." yielded at first; but finding that applications
increased as they were complied with, she was soon obliged, like all
Miss Fanshawe's friends, to oppose resistance to encroachment. After a
while I heard no more of Mrs. Cholmondeley's presents; but still,
visiting went on, and the absolutely necessary dresses continued
to be supplied: also many little expensive _etcetera_--gloves,
bouquets, even trinkets. These things, contrary to her custom, and
even nature--for she was not secretive--were most sedulously kept out
of sight for a time; but one evening, when she was going to a large
party for which particular care and elegance of costume were demanded,
she could not resist coming to my chamber to show herself in all her
splendour.
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