But I must not neglect myself any longer.

The Hall is the nearer, and the drive is shady; but, to put against that, Mabel will insist on showing me her new gowns, and Mrs.
Thursby will make her usual remarks about Aunt Fanny.

No; in spite of that burning expanse of glebe, I will go to tea at the rectory.

I have not seen Uncle John for a week, and--who knows ?--perhaps Aunt Fanny may be out." So the gloves were put on, the crisp white dress shaken out, the parasol put up, and Ruth took the narrow church path across the fields up to Slumberleigh Rectory.
For many years since the death of her parents, Ruth Deyncourt had lived with her grandmother, a wealthy, witty, and wise old lady, whose house had been considered one of the pleasantest in London by those to whom pleasant houses are open.
Lady Deyncourt, a beauty in her youth, a beauty in middle life, a beauty in her old age, had seen and known all the marked men of the last two generations, and had reminiscences to tell which increased in point and flavor, like old wine, the longer they were kept.

She had frequented as a girl the Misses Berrys' drawing-room, and people were wont to say that hers was the nearest approach to a _salon_ which remained after the Misses Berry disappeared.