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           Hadhenotalwayslurchedratherawkwardlypastthedrawing-roomwindowwithsomenewspaperunderhisarm,tryingtoavoidMrs.Ramsaywhomforsomereasonhedidnotmuchlike?Onthataccount,ofcourse,shewouldalwaystrytomakehimstop.Hewouldbowtoher.Hewouldhaltunwillinglyandbowprofoundly.Annoyedthathedidnotwantanythingofher,Mrs.Ramsaywouldaskhim(Lilycouldhearher)wouldn’thelikeacoat,arug,anewspaper?No,hewantednothing.(Herehebowed.)Therewassomequalityinherwhichhedidnotmuchlike.Itwasperhapshermasterfulness,herpositiveness,somethingmatter-of-factinher.Shewassodirect.

           (Anoisedrewherattentiontothedrawing-roomwindow—thesqueakofahinge.Thelightbreezewastoyingwiththewindow.)

           Theremusthavebeenpeoplewhodislikedherverymuch,Lilythought(Yes;sherealisedthatthedrawing-roomstepwasempty,butithadnoeffectonherwhatever.ShedidnotwantMrs.Ramsaynow.)—Peoplewhothoughthertoosure,toodrastic.

           Also,herbeautyoffendedpeopleprobably.Howmonotonous,theywouldsay,andthesamealways!Theypreferredanothertype—thedark,thevivacious.Thenshewasweakwithherhusband.Shelethimmakethosescenes.Thenshewasreserved.Nobodyknewexactlywhathadhappenedtoher.And(togobacktoMr.Carmichaelandhisdislike)onecouldnotimagineMrs.Ramsaystandingpainting,lyingreading,awholemorningonthelawn.Itwasunthinkable.