Few approached the émigrés directly, preferring to stare covertly from behind their fans, while pretending to admire the simple elegance of Lady Bicknacre’s neo-classical refurbishments. She put a stool for him at a little distance from her own, and after he had seen the day’s work he hesitated, and then plunged into a resumption of their discussion about beauty. He depended upon her, for his medicine, for his drink, for the little amusement it was now permissible to give him. “NO!” she said, at last, with something in her voice that reminded Ann Veronica of a sprung tennis-racket. A black silk furbelowed scarf covered her shoulders; and over the kincob gown hung a yellow satin apron, trimmed with white Persian.
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