Now it seemed absolutely to yell bank-holiday vulgarity and
impropriety at the silent pictures. But her gown decidedly exceeded it in
uproar, being of the very loudest scarlet hue, with large black lozenges
scattered liberally over it. From her rather narrow shoulders depended a
black cape, whose silk foundation was suffocated with bugles. A shrill
scent of cherry-blossom ran with her like a crowd, and in her hand she
carried an umbrella and a plush bag with a steel snap. Her face, in the
midst of this whirlpool of finery, peeped out anxiously, covered as it
was with a smear of paint and powder, and when she saw Valentine standing
alone to receive her, her nervous eyes ranged uncomfortably about in
obvious quest of an acquaintance and protector.
"I am sorry that Mr. Addison has not come yet," Valentine said, holding
out his hand. "I expect him every minute. Won't you come and sit down?"
An ironical courtesy vibrated in his voice. The lady grew more obviously
nervous. She looked at Valentine through the veil which was drawn tightly
across her face. His appearance seemed to carry awe into her heart, for
she stood staring and attempted no reply, allowing him to take her hand
without either protest or response.
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