Mrs.Fyne looked even cool.

She wore a white skirt and coat; a white hat with a large brim reposed on her smoothly arranged hair.

The coat was cut something like an army mess-jacket and the style suited her.
I dare say there are many youthful subalterns, and not the worst-looking too, who resemble Mrs.Fyne in the type of face, in the sunburnt complexion, down to that something alert in bearing.

But not many would have had that aspect breathing a readiness to assume any responsibility under Heaven.

This is the sort of courage which ripens late in life and of course Mrs.Fyne was of mature years for all her unwrinkled face.
She looked round the room, told me positively that I was very comfortable there; to which I assented, humbly, acknowledging my undeserved good fortune.
"Why undeserved ?" she wanted to know.
"I engaged these rooms by letter without asking any questions.