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” Ennison took the document, tore it half in two without looking at it, and flung it back in Hill’s face. “Please forgive me—for one moment,” she sobbed. A black silk furbelowed scarf covered her shoulders; and over the kincob gown hung a yellow satin apron, trimmed with white Persian. Looked like them statues of the Holy Mother I see about the place. She lunched at a creamery in Great Portland Street, and as the day was full of wintry sunshine, spent the rest of the lunch-hour in a drowsy gloom, which she imagined to be thought upon the problems of her position, on a seat in Regent’s Park.
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