She had always wrinkled her forehead, but in some inscrutable fashion the wrinkles had always smoothed out.

Her forehead was smooth as a girl's.

She smiled, and the smile was exactly in accord with her voice; it was weary and gentle.

There was not the slightest joy in it, only a submission and patience which might evince a slight hope of joy to come.
"I've got so much to do I ought not to stop long," said Sylvia, "but I thought I'd run in a minute." "Walk right in," said Mrs.Ayres, and Sylvia followed her into the sitting-room, which was quite charming, with a delicate flowered paper and a net-work of green vines growing in bracket-pots, which stood all about.

There were also palms and ferns.