9/32 The air was fresh and cool and smelled of the window primroses. She was utterly unlike the atmosphere of her drawing-room. She was a bustling, commonplace little creature, with an expressionless face, indented rather than molded in features. Her plump hands were covered with jewels, but for all the richness of her gown she gave the impression of being very badly dressed; things of jet and metal bobbed and ticked upon her, and her side-combs were continually falling about. She sat on the sofa and looked at the seat which St.George was to have and began to talk--all without taking the slightest heed of him or permitting him to mention the _Evening Sentinel_ or his errand. |