actually deplored never having been to a life-school of painting, with opportunity for drawing from the nude! And she spoke of this openly, before the men at dinner! It was all very well to be artistic, but one must draw the line somewhere. The line which was not to be drawn by a girl, apparently, was an anatomically correct one.
She was still in deep mourning, and wore the same dress every evening. This was an additional cause for the absence of sympathy between her and the other women: she could not talk chiffons. The reduced size of sleeves left her absolutely unmoved; and her dark hair—strong and stubborn—was swept back, regardless of curling-tongs. What could be said to a girl so blind and deaf to the edicts of Society? Pretty, dainty Mrs. Shaw was always so charmingly dressed, and not a hair out of its place upon her sunny little head. How strange she could not inoculate her niece with some of the virus necessary to preserve the female form from the contagion of a virulent commonness!
At the end of the week, these people, with most of whom we have nothing further to do, departed. Their impression of the new heiress and of her delightful aunt are only worth noting inasmuch as they helped to colour public opinion upon subsequent events.
Colonel Wybrowe stayed on.
