” He dabbed with his paper-weight again, and spoke in an entirely indifferent tone. She was dressed in a simple evening gown of soft creamy silk, with a yoke of dark old embroidery that enhanced the gentle gravity of her style, and her black hair flowed off her open forehead to pass under the control of a simple ribbon of silver. "No!" she cried. “Indeed, no,” he answered. On the floor was a handkerchief, a little morsel of lace. Lady Palsworthy was the widow of a knight who had won his spurs in the wholesale coal trade, she was of good seventeenth-century attorney blood, a county family, and distantly related to Aunt Mollie’s deceased curate. Endless complications ensue when both sisters return to London. She spoke with an entirely false note of cheerful offhandedness.
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