"Where is Miss Hale?" asked Edith, as soon as she had tried the effect of the garniture. "I can't think," she went on, pettishly, "how my aunt allowed her to get into such rambling habits in Milton! I'm sure I'm always expecting to hear of her having met with something horrible among all those wretched places she pokes herself into. I should never dare to go down some of those streets without a servant. They're not fit for ladies."
Dixon was still huffed about her despised taste; so she replied rather shortly:
"It's no wonder to my mind, when I hear ladies talk such a deal about ladies--and when they're such fearful, delicate, dainty ladies too--I say it's no wonder to me that there are no longer any saints on earth----"

'Where is Miss Hale?' asked Edith pettishly. 'I can't think how my aunt Hale allowed her to get into such rambling habits when she was in Milton! I'm always expecting to hear of her having met with something horrible in those wretched places she pokes herself into. I should never dare to go down some of those streets without a servant. They're not fit for ladies.'
Dixon was still huffed about her despised taste; so she replied, rather shortly:
'It's no wonder to my mind, when they're such fearful, delicate, dainty ladies - it's no wonder to me that there are no longer any saints on earth-'
