mirror with a furtive and deprecating air as if she were afraid of being
unjustly blamed for her appearance. "I'm not sure--but I don't think it
suits me exactly," she appeared to murmur in a strangled whisper, while
she twisted her mouth, which held a jet-headed hatpin, into a quivering
grimace.

"She's waiting on Matty French," said Mrs. Spencer, and she added
impulsively, "I wonder what it is that men see in Gabriella. You
wouldn't call her really pretty, would you, Miss Lancaster?"

"Well, not exactly pretty, but she has an interesting face. It is so
full of life."

"Can't you get her, mother?" asked Florrie; and Mrs. Spencer, always
eager to oblige, rustled across the room and pounced vivaciously upon
the prim lady and Gabriella.

"We've been looking for you everywhere, Gabriella," she began, nodding
agreeably to Miss French. "Florrie has tried on all the hats in the
room, and she wants you to tell her if that white Leghorn is becoming.
Good morning, Matty! That blue wing is so stylish. I think you are very
sensible to wear colours and not to stick to black as Susie Chamberlain
does. It makes her look as old as the hills, and I believe she does it
just to depress people. Life is too short, as I said when I left off
mourning, to be an ink blot wherever you go. And it doesn't mean that
she grieves a bit more for her husband than anybody else does. Everybody
knows they led a cat and dog's life together, and I've even heard,
though I can't remember who told me, that she was on the point of
getting a divorce when he died. Are you going? Well, I'm glad you
decided on that blue hat. I don't believe you'll ever regret it.