"I wonder who he was," said Harry.

Upon that they entered the drawing-room of Lady Waverton. It was
congested and dim. The two oriel windows were so draped with curtains of
pink and yellow that only a faint light as of the last of a sunset
filtered through. The wide spaces were beset with screens in lacquer,
odd chairs, Dutch tables, and very many cabinets,--cabinets inlaid with
flowers and birds of many colours; cabinets full of shells, agates,
corals, and any gaudy stone; cabinets and yet again more cabinets full of
Eastern china. In the midst Lady Waverton reclined.

She had been handsome in a large, bold style, and might still have been
but for excessive decoration. Her dress was voluminous white satin
embroidered in a big pattern of gold and set off with black. It was low
at her opulent bosom, to the curves of which the eye was directed by
black patches craftily fixed. There were many more patches on her face
which, still only a little too full and too loose, had its colours laid
on in sharp and vivid contrasts. Her black hair was erected in
symmetrical waves high above her brow, and one ringlet was brought by
glossy, frozen curls to caress her bosom. She held out the whitest of
hands drooping from a large but still fine arm for Mr. Hadley to kiss.

"You are a bad fellow, Charles Hadley," she pouted. "You make me
feel old."

"There's a common childish fancy, ma'am."

"You never come to see me now. And when you do come, 'tis not to see me."