It shall be my idol still." The silence in the bedroom was broken by a murmuring of women's voices outside the door.
Lady Janet instantly raised herself in the chair and snatched the photograph off the easel.

She laid the portrait face downward, among some papers on the table, then abruptly changed her mind, and hid it among the thick folds of lace which clothed her neck and bosom.

There was a world of love in the action itself, and in the sudden softening of the eyes which accompanied it.

The next moment Lady Janet's mask was on.
Any superficial observer who had seen her now would have said, "This is a hard woman!" The door was opened by the maid.

Grace Roseberry entered the room.
She advanced rapidly, with a defiant assurance in her manner, and a lofty carriage of her head.