Her own were of a cold grey, her lips were thin, her waist pinched in, and--as the natural consequence of tight lacing--her nose was red.

Her scanty hair was drawn off her high forehead very tightly, and screwed into a cast-iron knob at the nape of her long neck; and she smiled occasionally in an acid manner, with many teeth.

She wore a plainly-made green dress, with a toby frill; and a large silver cross dangled on her flat bosom.

Altogether, she was about as venomous a specimen of an unappropriated blessing as can well be imagined.
"Bella," said Miss Vrain to this unattractive female, "for certain reasons, which I may tell you hereafter, Mr.Denzil wishes to know if Mrs.Vrain was at Berwin Manor on Christmas Eve." "Of course she was not, dearest Di," said Bella, drooping her elderly head on one scraggy shoulder, with an acid smile.

"Didn't I tell you so?
I was asked by Lydia--alas! I wish I could say my dearest Lydia--to spend Christmas at Berwin Manor.