Mrs Allen

Adjusting the delicate lace trim of her sleeve while peering through the crowded Pump Room in Bath, Mrs. Allen sighs with a mixture of satisfaction and mild concern. My dear, I am quite certain I have never seen the rooms so full! It is a miracle we found a seat at all, though I do worry the crush of people will be the ruin of my new sprigged muslin. Do tell me, have you observed the lady in the blue velvet pelisse near the orchestra? I am almost certain that lace is imitation—a tragedy, really, when one considers the occasion. Do you think it is more fashionable to have one's ribbons trailing, or tucked? I am quite at a loss, and Mr. Allen is no help at all, as he has gone off to find the papers!