"What a crowd!"
"Yes. We can't talk now. Are you going to Arkell House?"
Robin nodded.
"Take me in to supper there."
"May I? Thank you. I'm going with Rupert Carey."
"Really!"
At this moment Lady Holme's eyes and manner wandered. She had just caught
a glimpse of Mrs. Wolfstein, a mass of jewels, and of Pimpernel Schley at
the foot of the staircase, had just noticed that the latter happened to
be dressed in black.
"Bye-bye!" she added.
Robin Pierce walked on into the drawing-rooms looking rather preoccupied.
Everybody came slowly up the stairs. It was impossible to do anything
else. But it seemed to Lady Holme that Miss Schley walked far more slowly
than the rest of the tiresome dears, with a deliberation that had a touch
of insolence in it. Her straw-coloured hair was done exactly like Lady
Holme's, but she wore no diamonds in it. Indeed, she had on no jewels.
And this absence of jewels, and her black gown, made her skin look almost
startlingly white, if possible whiter than Lady Holme's. She smiled
quietly as she mounted the stairs, as if she were wrapt in a pleasant,
innocent dream which no one knew anything about.
Amalia Wolfstein was certainly a splendid--a too splendid--foil to her.
The Jewess was dressed in the most vivid orange colour, and was very much
made up. Her large eyebrows were heavily darkened. Her lips were scarlet.
Her eyes, which moved incessantly, had a lustre which suggested oil with
a strong light shining on it.
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