Two brilliant lamps were in sight, and drew nearer and nearer, like great goggling eyes, and soon a neat dog-cart came up to the door.

Before it had well-stopped, the hospitable door flew open, and the yule fire shone on Mr.Coventry, and his natty groom, and his dog cart with plated axles; it illumined the silver harness, and the roan horse himself, and the breath that poured into the keen air from his nostrils red inside.
Mr.Coventry dropped from his shoulders, with easy grace, something between a coat and a cloak, lined throughout with foxes' skin; and, alighting, left his groom to do the rest.

The fur was reddish, relieved with occasional white; and Grace gloated over it, as it lay glowing in the fire-light.

"Ah," said she, "I should never do for a poor man's wife: I'm so fond of soft furs and things, and I don't like poky rooms." With that she fell into a reverie, which was only interrupted by the arrival of Jael and her boxes.
Jael helped her unpack, and dress.

There was no lack of conversation between these two, but most of it turned upon nothings.