She was a small blonde, not handsome, but with a flair for fashion demonstrated by her elegant chemise gown in the very latest Canterbury muslin, with its low décolletage barely concealed under a fine lawn handkerchief set about her shoulders, and decorated with a mauve satin sash at the waist. But this afternoon it discovered an unusual vein of irritability in her. "But we must be getting along if we are to lunch in the tower of the water-clock. III. ” She shrugged her shoulders slightly. She thought of an old abandoned barn that she could inhabit further downriver, but shrugged off the idea in disdain.
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