Mrs. Fisher had a great
objection to other people's chills. They were always the fruit of
folly; and then they were handed on to her, who had done nothing at all
to deserve them.
"Bird-brained," though Mrs. Fisher, sternly contemplating Lady
Caroline. "Not an idea in her head except vanity."
"But there are no men here," said Mrs. Wilkins, "so how can it be
improper? Have you noticed," she inquired of Mrs. Fisher, who
endeavoured to pretend she did not hear, "How difficult it is to be
improper without men?"
Mrs. Fisher neither answered her not looked at her; but Scrap
looked at her, and did that with her mouth which in any other mouth
would have been a fain grin. Seen from without, across the bowl of
nasturtiums, it was the most beautiful of brief and dimpled smiles.
She had a very alive sort of face, that one, thought Scrap,
observing Mrs. Wilkins with a dawn of interest. It was rather like a
field of corn swept by lights and shadows. Both she and the dark one,
Scrap noticed, had changed their clothes, but only in order to put on
silk jumpers. The same amount of trouble would have been enough to
dress them properly, reflected Scrap. Naturally they looked like
nothing on earth in the jumpers. It didn't matter what Mrs. Fisher
wore; indeed, the only thing for her, short of plumes and ermine, was
what she did wear.
Pages:
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172