Winscombe. About the opening, now closed for the introduction of a
hearth stove, were tiles picturing in gay glazes the pastoral history
of Ruth, and above the mantel a long, clear mirror held a similitude of
brilliant colour--the scarlet of Mrs. Winscombe's gown, Myrtle's azure
lutestring on a petticoat of ruffled citron spreading over her hoops and
little white kid slippers with gilt heels, Caroline's flowered Chinese
silk. The room was large and square, with a Turkey floor carpet, and
walls hung with paper printed in lavender and black perspectives from
copper plates. A great many candles had been lighted, on tables and
mantel, and in lacquer stands. One of the latter, at Mrs. Winscombe's
side, showed her features clearly.
Howat Penny saw that while she was actually no prettier than Caroline
she was infinitely more vivid and compelling. Her face held an
extraordinary potency; her bare arms and shoulders were more insistent
than his sister's; there was about her a consciousness of the allurement
of body, frankness in its employment. She made no effort to mask her
feeling, which at present was one of complete indifference to her
surroundings; and, not talking, a shadow had settled on her vision.
Caroline was seated on a little sofa across from the fireplace, and she
moved her voluminous skirt aside, made a place for him.
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