Her sallow cheeks were raddled to a hectic color, a monstrous head-dress--like that of some horse in a lord mayor's show--coiffed her, and her dress was a mixture of extravagance and incongruity, the petticoat absurdly hooped.
She swept into the room like a battleship into action, and let fly her first broadside at Mistress Winthrop from the threshold.
"Codso!" she shrilled.

"You have come back! And for what have you come back?
Am I to live in the same house with you, you shameless madam--that have no more thought for your reputation than a slut in a smock-race ?" Hortensia raised indignant eyes from out of a face that was very pale.
Her lips were tightly pressed--in resolution, thought Mr.Caryll, who was very observant of her--not to answer her ladyship; for Mr.Caryll had little doubt as to the identity of this dragon.
"My love--my dear--" began his lordship, advancing a step, his tone a very salve.

Then, seeking to create a diversion, he waved a hand towards Mr.Caryll.

"Let me present--" "Did I speak to you ?" she turned to bombard him.

"Have you not done harm enough?
Had you been aught but a fool--had you respected me as a husband should--you had left well alone and let her go her ways." "There was my duty to her father, to say aught of--" "And what of your duty to me ?" she blazed, her eyes puckering most malignantly.