I’d come back from the ends of the earth. She was tired, hungry—and thus somewhat impatient for the food Mrs Ibstock might bring—and downcast. One of these, a lady, evidently a confirmed invalid, and attired in deep mourning, reclined upon a sort of couch, or easy chair, set on wheels, with her head supported by cushions, and her feet resting upon a velvet footstool. He was a Wiltshire Edmondshaw, a very old family. Why should she? she asked rebelliously. She winced when first she heard the preparation-room door open and Capes came down the laboratory; but when at last he reached her she was self-possessed. She, perhaps, displayed herself rather consciously as a fine person unduly limited.
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