Briggs in his room was throwing away spoilt tie after
spoilt tie; Scrap in hers was hurrying into a black frock with a vague
notion that Mr. Briggs wouldn't be able to see her so clearly in black;
Mrs. Fisher was fastening the lace shawl, which nightly transformed her
day dress into her evening dress, with the brooch Ruskin had given her
on her marriage, formed of two pearl lilies tied together by a blue
enamel ribbon on which was written in gold letters Esto perpetua; Mr.
Wilkins was sitting on the edge of his bed brushing his wife's hair--
thus far in this third week had he progressed in demonstrativeness--
while she, for her part, sitting on a chair in front of him, put his
studs in a clean shirt; and Rose, ready dressed, sat at her window
considering her day.
Rose was quite aware of what had happened to Mr. Briggs. If she
had had any difficulty about it, Lotty would have removed it by the
frank comments she made while she and Rose sat together after tea on
the wall. Lotty was delighted at more love being introduced into San
Salvatore, even if it were only one-sided, and said that when once
Rose's husband was there she didn't suppose, now that Mrs. Fisher too
had at last come unglued--Rose protested at the expression, and Lotty
retorted that it was in Keats--there would be another place in the
world more swarming with happiness than San Salvatore.
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