And too, you
must not ruin the so costly gown that will be returned
to-morrow."
Frau Nirlanger's white face was lifted from the
shelter of her arms. The stricken look was still upon
it, but there was no cowering in her attitude now.
Slowly she rose to her feet. I had not realized that she
was so tall.
"The gown does not go back," she said.
"So?" he snarled, with a savage note in his voice.
"Now hear me. There shall be no more buying of gowns and
fripperies. You hear? It is for the wife to come to the
husband for the money; not for her to waste it wantonly
on gowns, like a creature of the streets. You," his
voice was an insult, "you, with your wrinkles and your
faded eyes in a gown of--" he turned inquiringly toward
me--"How does one call it, that color, Frau Orme?"
There came a blur of tears to my eyes. "It is called
ashes of roses," I answered. "Ashes of roses."
Konrad Nirlanger threw back his head and laughed a
laugh as stinging as a whip-lash. "Ashes of roses! So? It
is well named. For my dear wife it is poetically fit, is it
not so? For see, her roses are but withered ashes, eh Anna?"
Deliberately and in silence Anna Nirlanger walked to
the mirror and stood there, gazing at the woman in the
glass.
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