"I am not going to Madame Labiche's," answered Mrs. Warden, almost solemnly.
"Good gracious, why not?" asked her friend, while her good-humoured brown eyes grew spherical with astonishment.
"Well, you must know," answered Mrs. Warden. "it seems to me we can't with a good conscience pay so much money for unnecessary finery, when we know that on the outskirts of the town—and even at our very doors—there are hundreds of people living in destitution—literally in destitution."
"Yes, but," objected the advocate's wife, casting an uneasy glance over her table, "isn't that the way of the world? We know that inequality—"
"We ought to be careful not to increase the inequality, but rather to do what we can to smooth it away," Mrs. Warden interrupted. And it appeared to Mrs. Abel that her friend cast a glance of disapprobation over the table, the stuffs, and the Bazars.
"It's only alpaca," she interjected, timidly.
"Good heavens, Caroline!" cried Mrs. Warden, "pray don't think that I'm reproaching you. These things depend entirely upon one's individual point of view—every one must follow the dictates of his own conscience."
The conversation continued for some time, and Mrs. Warden related that it was her intention to drive out to the very lowest of the suburbs, in
