Her waist was drawn in to an hourglass taper, while her ample hips
spread out beneath like the heavy mason work which supports a slender
column. Tiny feet encased in pretty slippers peeping from beneath
her silken skirts looked oddly out of proportion with the rest of her
generous personality, and reminded Preston of the grotesque cuts in
the humorous weeklies, where well-known politicians were represented
with large heads and small extremities. Artistic by nature, and with
an eye to form, he had never admired the Baroness's type of beauty,
which was the theme of admiration for nearly every other man in
Beryngford. Her face, with its infantine colouring, its large,
innocent azure eyes, and its short retrousse features, he conceded to
be captivatingly pretty, however, and it seemed unusually so this
evening. Perhaps because he had so recently looked upon the sharp,
sallow face of his fiancee.

Preston frequently came to his room about this hour, after having
dined and before going to the office for his final duties; but he
seldom saw the Baroness on these occasions, unless through her own
design.

"You were surprised to receive my message, no doubt, saying I wished
to see you," he began. "But I have something I feel I ought to tell
you, as it may make some changes in my habits, and will of course
eventually take me away from these pleasant associations." He paused
for a second, and the Baroness, who had seated herself on the divan
at his side, leaned forward and looked inquiringly in his face.

"You are going away?" she asked, with a tremor in her voice. "Is it
not very sudden?"