But it seems to me that if you can't show your respect without a pair of black gloves that the dye's always coming off...

I don't know what you think, but I never did hold with mourning.

It's grumbling against Providence, too! Not but what I think there's a good deal too much talk about Providence.

I don't know what you think, but----" "I quite agree with you," he said, with a warm generous smile which sometimes rushed up and transformed his face before he was aware of the occurrence.
And she smiled also, gazing at him half confidentially.

She was a little woman, stoutish--indeed, stout; puffy red cheeks; a too remarkable white cotton blouse; and a crimson skirt that hung unevenly; grey cotton gloves; a green sunshade; on the top of all this the black hat with red roses.