Her ample figure was robed in the white satin of a bride, her
wrinkled neck disappeared under a weight of jewels, and her bright
chestnut wig, to which the diamond tiara was fastened, positively
attacked the spectator, so patent was it and unashamed. Unashamed, too,
were the bold, tyrannous eyes, the rouge-spots on either cheek, the
strength of the jaw, the close-shut ability of the mouth. Elizabeth
Tranmore looked at her with a secret passion of dislike. Her English
pride of race, no less than the prejudices of her taste and training,
could hardly endure the fact that, for William's sake, she must make
herself agreeable to Lady Parham.
Agreeable, however, she tried to be. Kitty had seemed to her tired in
the afternoon, and had, no doubt, gone to bed--so she averred.
Lady Parham laughed.
"Well, she mustn't be tired the night of my party next week--or the
skies will fall. I never took so much trouble before about anything in
my life."
"No, she must take care," said Lady Tranmore. "Unfortunately, she is not
strong, and she does too much."
Lady Parham threw her a sharp look.
"Not strong? I should have thought Lady Kitty was made on wires.
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