Sometimes it seemed to Euphemia as if Eleanor felt that no one worthwhile had ever been married before. Eleanor was determined to have the very best of everything, and plenty of it. Euphemia overheard her father telling her mother that things at the office were in a very bad mix-up and money was going to be scarce for the next six months, and he wished she would go as easy as possible in spending for a while. But Eleanor wept bitterly when Mrs. Martin suggested buying more inexpensive clothes than she had picked out, and the household resolved itself into a gloomy place. Then up rose Euphemia. “Eleanor, why can’t I make your lingerie? I’m sure I could save a lot of money on it. It’s ridiculous for you to pay five and six dollars apiece for those little wisps of crepe de Chine and lace, when we could make them for a dollar or two apiece.” “The idea!” sneered Eleanor, and dissolved into tears once more. “If—I ca–can’t have a decent outfit, I w–won’t get m–married at all.”
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