"I hope I did not abuse Arabella too much, but that sort of thing is cruel, I believe. Such a shame to have to live a life like that, imprisoned in a body she cannot help herself with. I mean, it is not her fault." It was quiet then for a moment from the whirlwind that was Arabella Mudd.

That statement made Worcester consider his own sad state of obesity. That was his fault, he supposed. But then, in his opinion, that was what was life all about: he had enjoyed himself when he could and was happy to have done so. Let others beat their own backs over spiritual salvation or some great cause. 

"I just wanted to get my dress for my wedding day, and I do mean to have it and some others which we need to discuss." She added. "You have my complete trust. Just show me some samples that you think will be what I need."

"Perhaps you would prefer to see some real models rather than these plates" the man suggested, hefting himself out of his armchair with some difficulty. There was a fitting room across the landing from his comfy upstairs parlour where she could see some real dresses.

Flip 

"Oh yes, I would. The plates are wonderful, but models of the dresses, or in them, whichever you mean, would really be so much better." She responded excitedly, as she had not really shopped for a wedding dress before. In her previous marriage, she had worn a nice enough dress, but it was almost an everyday dress. This was a world away from that.

"Please, sir, I am a complete novice at this, but I guarantee you, I know what I like, and I'll know what I want when I see it. Mister Pettigrew, you have made this experience one I shall brag to my friends about, I promise!" Whatever it was that he meant, she could not wait. She was suddenly very excited about this shopping trip that she had dreaded making only hours ago.