She wore an extremely smart travelling-dress and a wonderful dust-cloak of cool, pale, thin silk.

She was not an elegant person, but her appointments were luxurious and self-indulgent.

Her daughter was pretty, and had a slim, swaying waist, soft pink cheeks, and a pouting mouth.

Her large picture-hat of pale-blue straw, with its big gauze bow and crushed roses, had a slightly exaggerated Parisian air.
"It is a little too picturesque," Emily thought; "but how lovely she looks in it! I suppose it was so becoming she could not help buying it.
I'm sure it's Virot." As she was looking at the girl admiringly, a man passed her window.

He was a tall man with a square face.