She had a peculiar jerking movement of the body when she spoke, which caused the canary-coloured plume on her hat to jerk too.

Her small but finely-cut and vigorous features, together with the deep red of lips and cheeks, pointed to many generations of well-trained and well-nourished ancestors behind her.
"Nothin' that's more than twenty years old interests me," she continued.
"Mouldy old pictures, dirty old books, they stick 'em in museums when they're only fit for burnin'." "I quite agree," Helen laughed.

"But my husband spends his life in digging up manuscripts which nobody wants." She was amused by Ridley's expression of startled disapproval.
"There's a clever man in London called John who paints ever so much better than the old masters," Mrs.Flushing continued.

"His pictures excite me--nothin' that's old excites me." "But even his pictures will become old," Mrs.Thornbury intervened.
"Then I'll have 'em burnt, or I'll put it in my will," said Mrs.
Flushing.
"And Mrs.Flushing lived in one of the most beautiful old houses in England--Chillingley," Mrs.Thornbury explained to the rest of them.
"If I'd my way I'd burn that to-morrow," Mrs.Flushing laughed.

She had a laugh like the cry of a jay, at once startling and joyless.
"What does any sane person want with those great big houses ?" she demanded.