A made-up sort of look, you understand.

Lots of flowers on the tables, and that nasty, cold, cheap felt under your feet.

Not that _I_ mind how a house is furnished." (She did very much.

Her one and only object in life seemed to be to lade her own mansion with ugly and expensive upholstery.) "Now, what's the matter, Miss Peters?
Why, you are all on wires.

Where _are_ you off to now ?" "I see the Rector," responded Miss Peters.