answering this question about the store: Do you think the protagonist did the right thing with the money? Also each paragraph from 5 to 7 sentences.A Pair of Silk Stockings by Kate ChopinLittle Mrs. Sommers one day foundherself the unexpected possessor of fifteen dollars. It seemed to her a verylarge amount of money, and the way in which it stuffed and bulged her worn oldporte-monnaie gave her a feeling of importance such as she had not enjoyed foryears. The question of investment was onethat occupied her greatly. For a day or two she walked about apparently in adreamy state, but really absorbed in speculation and calculation. She did notwish to act hastily, to do anything she might afterward regret. But it wasduring the still hours of the night when she lay awake revolving plans in hermind that she seemed to see her way clearly toward a proper and judicious useof the money. A dollar or two should be added tothe price usually paid for Janie’s shoes, which would insure their lasting anappreciable time longer than they usually did. She would buy so and so manyyards of percale for new shirt waists for the boys and Janie and Mag. She hadintended to make the old ones do by skilful patching. Mag should have anothergown. She had seen some beautiful patterns, veritable bargains in the shopwindows. And still there would be left enough for new stockings–two pairsapiece–and what darning that would save for a while! She would get caps forthe boys and sailor-hats for the girls. The vision of her little brood lookingfresh and dainty and new for once in their lives excited her and made herrestless and wakeful with anticipation. The neighbors sometimes talked ofcertain ‘better days’ that little Mrs. Sommers had known before shehad ever thought of being Mrs. Sommers. She herself indulged in no such morbidretrospection. She had no time–no second of time to devote to the past. The needsof the present absorbed her every faculty. A vision of the future like somedim, gaunt monster sometimes appalled her, but luckily to-morrow never comes. Mrs. Sommers was one who knew thevalue of bargains; who could stand for hours making her way inch by inch towardthe desired object that was selling below cost. She could elbow her way if needbe; she had learned to clutch a piece of goods and hold it and stick to it withpersistence and determination till her turn came to be served, no matter when itcame. But that day she was a little faintand tired. She had swallowed a light luncheon–no! when she came to think ofit, between getting the children fed and the place righted, and preparingherself for the shopping bout, she had actually forgotten to eat any luncheonat all! She sat herself upon a revolvingstool before a counter that was comparatively deserted, trying to gatherstrength and courage to charge through an eager multitude that was besiegingbreastworks of shirting and figured lawn. An all-gone limp feeling had comeover her and she rested her hand aimlessly upon the counter. She wore nogloves. By degrees she grew aware that her hand had encountered something verysoothing, very pleasant to touch. She looked down to see that her hand lay upona pile of silk stockings. A placard near by announced that they had beenreduced in price from two dollars and fifty cents to one dollar andninety-eight cents; and a young girl who stood behind the counter asked her ifshe wished to examine their line of silk hosiery. She smiled, just as if shehad been asked to inspect a tiara of diamonds with the ultimate view ofpurchasing it. But she went on feeling the soft, sheeny luxurious things–withboth hands now, holding them up to see them glisten, and to feel them glideserpent-like through her fingers. Two hectic blotches came suddenlyinto her pale cheeks. She looked up at the girl. ‘Do you think there are anyeights-and-a-half among these?’ There were any number ofeights-and-a-half. In fact, there were more of that size than any other. Herewas a light-blue pair; there were some lavender, some all black and variousshades of tan and gray. Mrs. Sommers selected a black pair and looked at themvery long and closely. She pretended to be examining their texture, which theclerk assured her was excellent. ‘A dollar and ninety-eightcents,’ she mused aloud. ‘Well, I’ll take this pair.’ She handedthe girl a five-dollar bill and waited for her change and for her parcel. Whata very small parcel it was! It seemed lost in the depths of her shabby oldshopping-bag. Mrs. Sommers after that did not movein the direction of the bargain counter. She took the elevator, which carriedher to an upper floor into the region of the ladies’ waiting-rooms. Here, in aretired corner, she exchanged her cotton stockings for the new silk ones whichshe had just bought. She was not going through any acute mental process orreasoning with herself, nor was she striving to explain to her satisfaction themotive of her action. She was not thinking at all. She seemed for the time tobe taking a rest from that laborious and fatiguing function and to haveabandoned herself to some mechanical impulse that directed her actions andfreed her of responsibility. How good was the touch of the rawsilk to her flesh! She felt like lying back in the cushioned chair and revelingfor a while in the luxury of it. She did for a little while. Then she replacedher shoes, rolled the cotton stockings together and thrust them into her bag.After doing this she crossed straight over to the shoe department and took herseat to be fitted. She was fastidious. The clerk couldnot make her out; he could not reconcile her shoes with her stockings, and shewas not too easily pleased. She held back her skirts and turned her feet oneway and her head another way as she glanced down at the polished,pointed-tipped boots. Her foot and ankle looked very pretty. She could notrealize that they belonged to her and were a part of herself. She wanted anexcellent and stylish fit, she told the young fellow who served her, and shedid not mind the difference of a dollar or two more in the price so long as shegot what she desired. It was a long time since Mrs.Sommers had been fitted with gloves. On rare occasions when she had bought apair they were always ‘bargains,’ so cheap that it would have beenpreposterous and unreasonable to have expected them to be fitted to the hand. Now she rested her elbow on thecushion of the glove counter, and a pretty, pleasant young creature, delicateand deft of touch, drew a long-wristed ‘kid’ over Mrs. Sommers’shand. She smoothed it down over the wrist and buttoned it neatly, and both lostthemselves for a second or two in admiring contemplation of the littlesymmetrical gloved hand. But there were other places where money might bespent. There were books and magazines piledup in the window of a stall a few paces down the street. Mrs. Sommers boughttwo high-priced magazines such as she had been accustomed to read in the dayswhen she had been accustomed to other pleasant things. She carried them withoutwrapping. As well as she could she lifted her skirts at the crossings. Herstockings and boots and well fitting gloves had worked marvels in herbearing–had given her a feeling of assurance, a sense of belonging to thewell-dressed multitude. She was very hungry. Another timeshe would have stilled the cravings for food until reaching her own home, whereshe would have brewed herself a cup of tea and taken a snack of anything that wasavailable. But the impulse that was guiding her would not suffer her toentertain any such thought. There was a restaurant at thecorner. She had never entered its doors; from the outside she had sometimescaught glimpses of spotless damask and shining crystal, and soft-steppingwaiters serving people of fashion. When she entered her appearancecreated no surprise, no consternation, as she had half feared it might. Sheseated herself at a small table alone, and an attentive waiter at onceapproached to take her order. She did not want a profusion; she craved a niceand tasty bite–a half dozen blue-points, a plump chop with cress, a somethingsweet–a creme-frappee, for instance; a glass of Rhine wine, and after all asmall cup of black coffee. While waiting to be served sheremoved her gloves very leisurely and laid them beside her. Then she picked upa magazine and glanced through it, cutting the pages with a blunt edge of herknife. It was all very agreeable. The damask was even more spotless than it hadseemed through the window, and the crystal more sparkling. There were quietladies and gentlemen, who did not notice her, lunching at the small tables likeher own. A soft, pleasing strain of music could be heard, and a gentle breeze,was blowing through the window. She tasted a bite, and she read a word or two,and she sipped the amber wine and wiggled her toes in the silk stockings. Theprice of it made no difference. She counted the money out to the waiter andleft an extra coin on his tray, whereupon he bowed before her as before aprincess of royal blood. There was still money in her purse,and her next temptation presented itself in the shape of a matinee poster. It was a little later when sheentered the theatre, the play had begun and the house seemed to her to bepacked. But there were vacant seats here and there, and into one of them shewas ushered, between brilliantly dressed women who had gone there to kill timeand eat candy and display their gaudy attire. There were many others who werethere solely for the play and acting. It is safe to say there was no onepresent who bore quite the attitude which Mrs. Sommers did to her surroundings.She gathered in the whole–stage and players and people in one wide impression,and absorbed it and enjoyed it. She laughed at the comedy and wept–she and thegaudy woman next to her wept over the tragedy. And they talked a littletogether over it. And the gaudy woman wiped her eyes and sniffled on a tinysquare of filmy, perfumed lace and passed little Mrs. Sommers her box of candy.The play was over, the music ceased,the crowd filed out. It was like a dream ended. People scattered in alldirections. Mrs. Sommers went to the corner and waited for the cable car. A man with keen eyes, who satopposite to her, seemed to like the study of her small, pale face. It puzzledhim to decipher what he saw there. In truth, he saw nothing-unless he werewizard enough to detect a poignant wish, a powerful longing that the cable carwould never stop anywhere, but go on and on with her forever.