“Oceans,” said Rosa.

“I will go and hunt houses again.”

“There’s a good husband,” said Mrs. Cole, as soon as the door closed on him, “and such a fine man!  Why, he must be six feet.  Mine is rather short.  But he is very good; refuses me nothing.  My will is law.”

“That is all right—­you are so sensible; but I want governing a little, and I like it—­actually.  Did the dressmaker find it, dear?”

“Oh, no!  I had it by me.  I bought it at Brussels on our wedding tour:  it is dearer there than in London.”

She said this as if “dearer” and “better” were synonymous.

“But about your house, Rosie dear?”

“Yes, darling, I’ll tell you all about it.  I never saw a moire this shade before.  I don’t care for them in general; but this is so distingue.”

Florence rewarded her with a kiss.

“The house,” said Rosa.  “Oh, he has seen one in Portman Street, and one in Gloucester Place.”

“Oh, that will never do,” cried Mrs. Cole.  “It is no use being a physician in those out-of-the-way places.  He must be in Mayfair.”

“Must he?”

“Of course.  Besides, then my Johnnie can call him in when they are just going to die.  Johnnie is a general prac., and makes two thousand a year; and he shall call your one in; but he must live in Mayfair.  Why, Rosie, you would not be such a goose as to live in those places—­they are quite gone by.”

“I shall do whatever you advise me, dear.  Oh, what a comfort to have a dear friend:  and six months married, and knows things.  How richly it is trimmed!  Why, it is nearly all trimmings.”

“That is the fashion.”

“Oh!”

And after that big word there was no more to be said.

These two ladies in their conversation gravitated towards dress, and fell flat on it every half-minute.  That great and elevating topic held them by a silken cord, but it allowed them to flutter upwards into other topics; and in those intervals, numerous though brief, the lady who had been married six months found time to instruct the matrimonial novice with great authority, and even a shade of pomposity.  “My dear, the way ladies and gentlemen get a house—­in the first place, you don’t go about yourself like that, and you never go to the people themselves, or you are sure to be taken in, but to a respectable house-agent.”

“Yes, dear, that must be the best way, one would think.”

“Of course it is; and you ask for a house in Mayfair, and he shows you several, and recommends you the best, and sees you are not cheated.”

“Thank you, love,” said Rosa; “now I know what to do; I’ll not forget a word.  And the train so beautifully shaped!  Ah! it is only in London or Paris they can make a dress flow behind like that,” etc., etc.

Dr. Staines came back to dinner in good spirits; he had found a house in Harewood Square; good entrance hall, where his gratuitous patients might sit on benches; good dining-room where his superior patients might wait; and good library, to be used as a consulting-room.  Rent only eighty-five pounds per annum.