The shapely immobile trees, the grey and crumbling stone, the lone green walks vanishing into a bosky darkness were instinct with the quiet of ages.

It needed but Lady Prue with her flounces and furbelows and Sir Pertinax with his cane and buckled shoon to re-create the ancient world before good Queen Anne had gone to her rest.
In one of the shadiest corners of a great lawn Lady Manorwater sat making tea.

Bertha, with a broad hat shading her eyes, dozed over a magazine in a deck-chair.

That morning she and Alice had broken the convention of the house and gone riding in the haughlands till lunch.
Now she suffered the penalty and dozed, but her companion was very wide awake, being a tireless creature who knew not lethargy.

Besides, there was sufficient in prospect to stir her curiosity.