‘Well, that depends. ” It was a tiny little room, daintily furnished, individual in its quaint colouring, and the masses of perfumed flowers set in strange and unexpected places. What reassured her, however, more than anything else, was the shape of the mouth: it was warmly turned. ‘Aye, that she was. Were I a painter of subject pictures, I would exhaust all my skill in proportion and perspective and atmosphere upon the august seat of empire, I would present it gray and dignified and immense and respectable beyond any mere verbal description, and then, in vivid black and very small, I would put in those valiantly impertinent vans, squatting at the base of its altitudes and pouring out a swift, straggling rush of ominous little black objects, minute figures of determined women at war with the universe. She studied the face and tried to visualize the body, clothed in the dress which had created the spinsters' astonishment. I should have thought my note cleared up everything.
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