The severe but immaculate simplicity of her toilette might have been designed to accentuate the barbarities of Blanche Moyat's cheap finery.
"I understood that you would be in town for at least three weeks," I remarked.

"I trust that his Grace is well." "I trust that he is," she answered.

"I see nothing of him in London.
He has company meetings and political work every moment of his time.

I do not believe that there is any one who works harder." "He has, at least," I remarked, "the compensation of success." "You are wondering, I suppose," she said, looking up at me quickly, "what has brought me back again so soon." "I certainly did not expect you," I admitted.
She rose abruptly.
"Come outside," she said, "and I will show you.

Bring your hat." We passed into the March twilight.