Her mood changed magically.
"Oh, the darling!" she cried, and kissed its tiny, wet nose.
She was quite polite to Sypher during luncheon, and laughed when he told her that he called the kitten Jebusa Jones.

She asked why.
"Because," said he, showing his hand covered with scratches, "she produces on the human epidermis the same effect as his poisonous cuticle remedy." Whereupon Emmy decided that the man who could let a kitten scratch his hand in that fashion had elements of good in his nature.
"Now for the surprise," said Sypher, when Septimus and he joined the ladies after lunch.

"Come." They followed him outside, through the French windows of the drawing-room.
"Other people," said he, "want houses with lawns reaching down to the side of the river or the Menai Straits or Windermere.

I'm the only person, I think, who has ever sought for a lawn running down to a main line of railway." "That's why this house was untenanted so long," said Zora.
A row of trees separated the small garden from the lawn in question.

When they passed through this screen, the lawn and the line of railway and the dreamy, undulating Surrey country came into view.