It happened most luckily, though greatly to Widdowson's annoyance, that the sister-in-law, Mrs.
Luke Widdowson, arrived nearly half an hour later than the time she had appointed.

Led by the servant into a comfortable drawing-room, the visitors were received by the master of the house alone; with a grim smile, the result of his embarrassment, with profuse apologies and a courtesy altogether excessive, Widdowson did his best to put them at their ease--of course with small result.

The sisters side by side on a settee at one end of the room, and the host seated far away from them, they talked with scarcely any understanding of what was said on either side--the weather and the vastness of London serving as topics--until of a sudden the door was thrown open, and there appeared a person of such imposing presence that Virginia gave a start and Monica gazed in painful fascination.

Mrs.Luke was a tall and portly woman in the prime of life, with rather a high colour; her features were handsome, but without much refinement, their expression a condescending good-humour.
Her mourning garb, if mourning it could be called, represented an extreme of the prevailing fashion; its glint and rustle inspired awe in the female observer.

A moment ago the drawing-room had seemed empty; Mrs.Luke, in her sole person, filled and illumined it.
Widdowson addressed this resplendent personage by her Christian name, his familiarity exciting in Monica an irrational surprise.