Hateship, Friendship, Courtship, Loveship, Marriage

gathered, three-quarter sleeves and a plain round neckline. About as plain as you could get, except for a narrow gold belt. Not as expensive as the suit, but still the price seemed like a lot, when you considered all there was to it.
    At least the skirt was a more decent length and the fabric made a noble swirl around her legs. She steeled herself and looked in the glass.
    This time she didn’t look as if she’d been stuck into the garment for a joke.
    The woman came and stood beside her, and laughed, but with relief.
    “It’s the color of your eyes. You don’t need to wear velvet. You’ve got velvet eyes.”
    That was the kind of soft-soaping Johanna would have felt bound to scoff at, except that at the moment it seemed to be true. Her eyes were not large, and if asked to describe their color she would have said, “I guess they’re a kind of a brown.” But now they looked to be a really deep brown, soft and shining.
    It wasn’t that she had suddenly started thinking she was pretty or anything. Just that her eyes were a nice color, if they had been a piece of cloth.
    “Now, I bet you don’t wear dress shoes very often,” the woman said. “But if you had nylons on and just a minimum kind of pump—And I bet you don’t wear jewelry, and you’re quite right, you don’t need to, with that belt.”
    To cut off the sales spiel Johanna said, “Well, I better take it off so you can wrap it up.” She was sorry to lose the soft weight of the skirt and the discreet ribbon of gold around her waist. She had never in her life had this silly feeling of being enhanced by what she had put on herself.
    “I just hope it’s for a special occasion,” the woman called out as Johanna was hastening into her now dingy-looking regular clothes.
    “It’ll likely be what I get married in,” said Johanna.
    She was surprised at that coming out of her mouth. It wasn’t a major error—the woman didn’t know who she was and would probably not be talking to anybody who did know. Still, she had meant to keep absolutely quiet. She must have felt she owed this person something—that they’d been through the disaster of the green suit and the discovery of the brown dress together and that was a bond. Which was nonsense. The woman was in the business of selling clothes, and she’d just succeeded in doing that.
    “Oh!” the woman cried out. “Oh, that’s wonderful.”
    Well, it might be, Johanna thought, and then again it might not. She might be marrying anybody. Some miserable farmer who wanted a workhorse around the place, or some wheezy old half-cripple looking for a nurse. This woman had no idea what kind of man she had lined up, and it wasn’t any of her business anyway.
    “I can tell it’s a love match,” the woman said, just as if she had read these disgruntled thoughts. “That’s why your eyes were shining in the mirror. I’ve wrapped it all in tissue paper, all you have to do is take it out and hang it up and the material will fall out beautifully. Just give it a light press if you want, but you probably won’t even need to do that.”
    Then there was the business of handing over the money. They both pretended not to look, but both did.
    “It’s worth it,” the woman said. “You only get married the once. Well, that’s not always strictly true—”
    “In my case it’ll be true,” Johanna said. Her face was hotly flushed because marriage had not, in fact, been mentioned. Not even in the last letter. She had revealed to this woman what she was counting on, and that had perhaps been an unlucky thing to do.
    “Where did you meet him?” said the woman, still in that tone of wistful gaiety. “What was your first date?”
    “Through family,” Johanna said truthfully. She wasn’t meaning to say any more but heard herself go on. “The Western Fair. In London.”
    “The Western Fair,” the woman said. “In London.” She could have been saying “the Castle Ball.”
    “We had his daughter and her friend with us,” said Johanna, thinking that in a way it would have been more accurate to say that he and Sabitha and Edith had her, Johanna, with them.
    “Well, I can say my day has not been wasted. I’ve provided the dress for somebody to be a happy bride in. That’s enough to justify my existence.” The woman tied a narrow pink ribbon around the dress box, making a big, unnecessary bow, then gave it a wicked snip with the scissors.
    “I’m here all day,” she said. “And sometimes I just