She had worn away from Forty-third
Street her cheapest dress because it happened to be of an
inconspicuous blue. It was one of those suits that look fairly
well at a glance on the wax figure in the department store
window, that lose their bloom as quickly as a country bride,
and at the fourth or fifth wearing begin to make frank and
sweeping confession of the cheapness of every bit of the
material and labor that went into them. These suits are
typical of all that poverty compels upon the poor, all that
they in their ignorance and inexperience of values accept
without complaint, fancying they are getting money's worth and
never dreaming they are more extravagant than the most prodigal
of the rich. However, as their poverty gives them no choice,
their ignorance saves them from futilities of angry discontent.
Susan had bought this dress because she had to have another
dress and could not afford to spend more than twelve dollars,
and it had been marked down from twenty-five. She had worn it
in fair weather and had contrived to keep it looking pretty
well. But this rain had finished it quite. Thereafter, until
she could get another dress, she must expect to be classed as
poor and seedy--therefore, on the way toward deeper
poverty--therefore, an object of pity and of prey. If she went
into a shop, she would be treated insultingly by the shopgirls,
despising her as a poor creature like themselves.
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