"You are going to love your new mother, aren't you, darling? Don't
you think she is lovely?"

Ida had gone up-stairs with Miss Holmes, to remove her wraps.

"Yes, sir, I think She is lovely," replied Maria.



Chapter X


Ida Edgham was, in some respects, a peculiar personality. She was
as much stronger, in another way, than her husband, as her
predecessor had been. She was that anomaly: a creature of supreme
self-satisfaction, who is yet aware of its own limits. She was so
unemotional as to be almost abnormal, but she had head enough to
realize the fact that absolute unemotionlessness in a woman detracts
from her charm. She therefore simulated emotion. She had a spiritual
make-up, a panoply of paint and powder for the soul, as truly as any
actress has her array of cosmetics for her face. She made no effort
to really feel, she knew that was entirely useless, but she observed
all the outward signs and semblance of feeling more or less
successfully. She knew that to take up her position in Harry Edgham's
house like a marble bust of Diana, which had been one of her
wedding-presents, would not be to her credit. She therefore put
herself to the pace which she would naturally be expected to assume
in her position. She showed everybody who called her new possessions,
with a semblance of delight which was quite perfect. She was, in
reality, less deceptive in that respect than in others. She had a