With a rustle of her full lilac petticoats, Miss Froxfield turned back to Alderley. “Flesh and flowers are all alike to me. "Why, so it is," she said, in mock astonishment. ” “So far,” she continued, eyeing hungrily the last morsel of roll which lay upon her plate, “my only chance of occupation has lain with a photographer who engaged me on the spot and insulted me in half an hour. ‘Tee-ree-sa. He would pull this young fellow back; but later he knew that he would have to fight the boy's lack of will to live. And a custom had grown up of a general tea at four o’clock, under the auspices of a Miss Garvice, a tall and graceful girl of distinguished intellectual incompetence, in whom the hostess instinct seemed to be abnormally developed. Even Blueskin looked on with anxiety.
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