Her own figure, as she sat writing with a pad on her knee, shared the general effect of size and lack of detail, for the flames which ran along the branches, suddenly devouring little green tufts, burnt intermittently and sent irregular illuminations across her face and the plaster walls.

There were no pictures on the walls but here and there boughs laden with heavy-petalled flowers spread widely against them.

Of the books fallen on the bare floor and heaped upon the large table, it was only possible in this light to trace the outline.
Mrs.Ambrose was writing a very long letter.

Beginning "Dear Bernard," it went on to describe what had been happening in the Villa San Gervasio during the past three months, as, for instance, that they had had the British Consul to dinner, and had been taken over a Spanish man-of-war, and had seen a great many processions and religious festivals, which were so beautiful that Mrs.Ambrose couldn't conceive why, if people must have a religion, they didn't all become Roman Catholics.

They had made several expeditions though none of any length.