A low, grave voice from the inner room said, 'Come in.' The maid, opening the door, announced, 'A person to see you, Miladi, on business,' and immediately retired.

In the one instant while these events passed, timid little Mrs.Ferrari mastered her own throbbing heart; stepped over the threshold, conscious of her clammy hands, dry lips, and burning head; and stood in the presence of Lord Montbarry's widow, to all outward appearance as supremely self-possessed as her ladyship herself.
It was still early in the afternoon, but the light in the room was dim.
The blinds were drawn down.

Lady Montbarry sat with her back to the windows, as if even the subdued daylight were disagreeable to her.

She had altered sadly for the worse in her personal appearance, since the memorable day when Doctor Wybrow had seen her in his consulting-room.
Her beauty was gone--her face had fallen away to mere skin and bone; the contrast between her ghastly complexion and her steely glittering black eyes was more startling than ever.

Robed in dismal black, relieved only by the brilliant whiteness of her widow's cap--reclining in a panther-like suppleness of attitude on a little green sofa--she looked at the stranger who had intruded on her, with a moment's languid curiosity, then dropped her eyes again to the hand-screen which she held between her face and the fire.