All her life studiously unaffected and simple in attire; of plain and frugal habit; an early riser; working at something or other from morning till night, and as little worn-out at seventy-eight as most women of fifty, she had only one weak spot--and that was her strength--blindness as to the nature and size of her place in the scheme of things.

She was a type, a force.
Wonderfully well she went with the room in which they were dining, whose grey walls, surmounted by a deep frieze painted somewhat in the style of Fragonard, contained many nymphs and roses now rather dim; with the furniture, too, which had a look of having survived into times not its own.

On the tables were no flowers, save five lilies in an old silver chalice; and on the wall over the great sideboard a portrait of the late Lord Casterley.
She spoke: "I hope Miltoun is taking his own line ?" "That's the trouble.

He suffers from swollen principles--only wish he could keep them out of his speeches." "Let him be; and get him away from that woman as soon as his election's over.

What is her real name ?" "Mrs.something Lees Noel." "How long has she been there ?" "About a year, I think." "And you don't know anything about her ?" Lord Valleys raised his shoulders.
"Ah!" said Lady Casterley; "exactly! You're letting the thing drift.