At last Mr.Smith, who to Scroope's great amusement had taken the end of the table and assumed the position of host, gave the signal to move and we adjourned to the drawing-room.
I don't know what had happened but there we found the atmosphere distinctly stormy.

The ample Mrs.Smith sat in a chair fanning herself, which caused the barbaric ornaments she wore to clank upon her fat arm.
Upon either side of her, pale and indeterminate, stood Polly and Dolly each pretending to read a book.

Somehow the three of them reminded me of a coat-of-arms seen in a nightmare, British Matron _sejant_ with Modesty and Virtue as supporters.

Opposite, on the other side of the fire and evidently very angry, stood Lady Ragnall, _regardant_.
"Do I understand you to say, Luna," I heard Mrs.A.-S.

ask in resonant tones as I entered the room, "that you actually played the part of a heathen goddess among these savages, clad in a transparent bed-robe ?" "Yes, Mrs.Atterby-Smith," replied Lady Ragnall, "and a nightcap of feathers.