Mrs. He never seemed to take full advantage while they were in his mammoth automobile. He learnt that his sister was privately married—the name or rank of her husband could not be ascertained—and living in retirement in an obscure dwelling in the Borough, where she had given birth to a son. Dinner was served at 5:30. Spurling, for so was she named, had a warm nut-brown complexion, almost as dark as a Creole; and a moustache on her upper lip, that would have done no discredit to the oldest dragoon in the King's service. Both arm-chairs had been moved a little so as to face each other on either side of the fender, and in the circular glow of the green-shaded lamp there lay, conspicuously waiting, a thick bundle of blue and white papers tied with pink tape. He went in there, and he was in there for a good half hour. She was lovely, painted like the porcelain doll he had always wanted her to be. It throws out a number of broad experimental generalizations, and then sets out to bring into harmony or relation with these an infinitely multifarious collection of phenomena. But seriously, things are not so bad as you think. One of those hanging moments ensued— hypnotic.
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