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Dorothy, feeling snubbed, subsides into silence and the shadow that envelopes the lounge on which she is sitting. That wandering shrine of soft yet icy flame, "It is terrible," says Mona, with such exceeding earnestness that he could have hugged her on the spot..
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It is a very pretty room, filled with a subdued light, and with a blazing fire at one end. All bespeaks warmth, and home, and comfort, but to Mona in her present state it is desolation itself. The three occupants of the room rise as she enters, and Mona's heart dies within her as a very tall statuesque woman, drawing herself up languidly from a lounging-chair, comes leisurely up to her. There is no welcoming haste in her movements, no gracious smile, for which her guest is thirsting, upon her thin lips. This is a betise of the first water. And Lady Rodney, who can hear—and is listening to—every word, almost groans aloud. She lifts her luminous eyes to his, and regards him fixedly as she speaks, full of hopeful excitement. Her eyes have always a peculiar fascination of their own, apart from the rest of her face. Once looking at her, as though for the first time impressed with this idea, Geoffrey had said to her, "I never look at your eyes that I don't feel a wild desire to close them with a kiss." To which she had made answer in her little, lovable way, and with a bewitching glance from the lovely orbs in question, "If that is how you mean to do it, you may close them just as often as ever you like." "I accept the risk," says Nolly, with much stateliness and forthwith retires to make himself presentable..
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