"Henry" followed in her wake, looking
intensely nervous, and unnaturally alive and observant, as if he were
searching in the crowd for a bit of gold that someone had accidentally
dropped. When anyone spoke to him he replied with extreme vivacity but in
the fewest possible words. He held his spare figure slightly sideways as
he walked, and his bald head glistened under the electric lamps. Behind
them, in the distance, was visible the yellow and sunken face of Sir
Donald Ulford.
When Miss Schley gained the top of the staircase Lady Holme saw that
their gowns were almost exactly alike. Hers was sewn with diamonds, but
otherwise there was scarcely any difference. And she suddenly felt as if
the difference made by the jewels was not altogether in her favour, as if
she were one of those women who look their best when they are not wearing
any ornaments. Possibly Mrs. Wolfstein made all jewellery seem vulgar for
the moment. She looked like an exceedingly smart jeweller's shop rather
too brilliantly illuminated; "as if she were for sale," as an old and
valued friend of hers aptly murmured into the ear of someone who had
known her ever since she began to give good dinners.
"Here we are! I'm chaperoning Pimpernel. But her mother arrives
to-morrow," began Mrs. Wolfstein, with her strongest accent, while Miss
Schley put out a limp hand to meet Lady Holme's and very slightly
accentuated her smile.
"Your mother? I shall be delighted to meet her.
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