dark velvet, she, in her turn, had been vindicated.

Again, but far more rarely, the child's selection was evident on the
woman. As a rule Mrs. Condon garbed her flamboyant body in large and
expensive patterns or extremely tailored suits; and of the two, the
evening satins and powdered arms barely retaining an admissible
line, and the suits, the latter were the most, well--spectacular.

She was not dark in color but brightly golden; a gold, it must be
said in all honesty, her own, a metallic gold crisply and solidly
marcelled; with hazel-brown eyes, and a mouth which, set against her
daughter's deep-blue gaze, was her particular attraction. It was
rouged to a nicety, the under lip a little full and never quite
against the upper. If Linda's effect was cool and remote, Mrs.
Condon, thanks to her mouth, was reassuringly imminent. She was,
too, friendly; she talked to women--in her not overfrequent
opportunities--in a rapid warm inaccurate confession of almost
everything they desired to hear. The women, of course, were
continually hampered by the unfortunate fact that the questions
nearest their hearts, or curiosity, were entirely inadmissible.

Viewed objectively, they all, with the exception of Linda, seemed
alike; but that might have been due to their common impressive
setting. The Boscombe, in its way, was as lavish as Mrs. Condon's
dresses. The main place of congregation, for instance, was a great
space of white marble columns, Turkey-red carpet and growing palms.
It was lighted at night indirectly by alabaster bowls hanging on
gilded chains--a soft bright flood of radiance falling on the seated
or slowly promenading women with bare shoulders.