room.

She looked up; she gave a cry! He had come back! He had come back after
all!




CHAPTER VIII

SARAH TREFUSIS


I

Sarah Trefusis lived, with her mother, in the smallest house in March
Square, a really tiny house, like a box, squeezed breathlessly between
two fat buildings, but looking, with its white paint and green doors,
smarter than either of them. Lady Charlotte Trefusis, Sarah's mother,
was elegant, penniless and a widow; Captain B. Trefusis, her husband,
had led the merriest of lives until a game of polo carried him
reluctantly from a delightful world and forced Lady Charlotte to
consider the problem of having a good time alone on nothing at all. But
it may be said that, on the whole, she succeeded. She was the
best-dressed widow in London, and went everywhere, but the little house
in March Square was the scene of a most strenuous campaign, every day
presenting its defeat or victory, and every minute of the day
threatening overwhelming disaster if something were not done
immediately. Lady Charlotte had the smallest feet and hands outside
China, a pile of golden hair above the face of a pink-and-white doll.