Епоха невинності

           WhathewishedtoaskwassimplythedateofherreturntoWashington;andthatquestionshecouldhardlyrefusetoanswer.Butintheyellowsitting-roomitwasthemulattomaidwhowaited.Herwhiteteethshininglikeakeyboard,shepushedbacktheslidingdoorsandusheredhimintooldCatherine’spresence.Theoldwomansatinavastthrone-likearm-chairnearherbed.Besideherwasamahoganystandbearingacastbronzelampwithanengravedglobe,overwhichagreenpapershadehadbeenbalanced.Therewasnotabookoranewspaperinreach,noranyevidenceoffeminineemployment:conversationhadalwaysbeenMrs.Mingott’ssolepursuit,andshewouldhavescornedtofeignaninterestinfancywork.Archersawnotraceoftheslightdistortionleftbyherstroke.Shemerelylookedpaler,withdarkershadowsinthefoldsandrecessesofherobesity;and,intheflutedmob-captiedbyastarchedbowbetweenherfirsttwochins,andthemuslinkerchiefcrossedoverherbillowingpurpledressing-gown,sheseemedlikesomeshrewdandkindlyancestressofherownwhomighthaveyieldedtoofreelytothepleasuresofthetable.Sheheldoutoneofthelittlehandsthatnestledinahollowofherhugelaplikepetanimals,andcalledtothemaid:"Don’tletinanyoneelse.Ifmydaughterscall,sayI’masleep."Themaiddisappeared,andtheoldladyturnedtohergrandson."Mydear,amIperfectlyhideous?"sheaskedgaily,launchingoutonehandinsearchofthefoldsofmuslinonherinaccessiblebosom.