It'd taken some time for Beauty to acclimate to the much higher hemlines and much lower necklines of the dresses considered reasonable for women her age, in this age. Today, she sat comfortably in a knee-length white print dress that boasted tiny flashes of pink, blue, and fuchsia flowers. Even two years ago, that would have been difficult for her.
When the woman offered her a smile, Beauty did her best to return it. Smiles were still hard to come by, these days. She never remembered them taking so much effort -- but apparently that's exactly what they took.
"They never made them like this," Beauty said, her softly French accent making the stresses somewhat wistful. She glanced back at the structure. It was such a far cry from the tiny bookstores she'd visited in Paris. At home, she'd read the entire store - twice, thanks to the generosity of the local shopkeeper. Jacques was just as deeply in love with books as she.
"But I was brought up in the mid-1700s. Hardly anything is like what I recall." Beauty gave her neighbor a somewhat self-deprecating look, and lifted her shoulders gently. "I'm Honour," she said, in the way that people do when welcoming another person to introduce themselves as well. "Honour Bellaforte."