One never knew when it would be necessary to resume her disguise. 82 She was putting a manuscript away, gingerly locking its heavy tooled cover, but it was a huge, awkward tome. A dovecoloured kincob gown, embroidered with large trees, and made very low in front, displayed to the greatest possible advantage, the rounded proportions of her figure; while a high-heeled, red-leather shoe did not detract from the symmetry of a very neat ankle, and a very small foot. The question ceased to be a tea-table talk, and became suddenly tragically real for Ann Veronica. And for my part, if I were inclined to exercise my benevolence at all, it should be in favour of some more deserving object than that whining, hypocritical Magdalene. She sat on the edge of her bed and looked about her, at her room, at the row of black-covered books and the pig’s skull. And, mind, it's for his sister, Lady Trafford. ‘Valade, if you don’t mind.
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