'Is that so? This is interesting. Can you actually tell the shade of her temper from the shade of her clothes?'
'Yes. Can't you?'
'I don't know that I ever thought of it.'
'When Auntie is amiable she wears crimson or violet. When she's cross she always introduces green or brown into the scheme. You watch her and you'll find I'm right.'
'I have observed,' said Sir Charles slowly, 'that when we're going out somewhere that she isn't very keen about she always wears a good deal of shiny jet, and when we're at home alone and something has happened to vex her I seem to remember that she puts on a certain shaded silk dress that I particularly hate—because you never know where you are with it, sometimes it's brown and sometimes it's yellow. It depends on the light, and anyhow it's hideous; it's very stiff, and rustles.'
'I know. Shot taffeta! Oh, that's a very bad sign. Has she worn it lately?'
'Yes, she has, a good deal.'
'What's been the matter?'
'Oh, she has—may I smoke? Thanks—some mysterious grievance against you. She's simply furious. It seems it has something to do with somebody called Jane's sister.'
'Oh! Tell me about it.'