"Oh no, Mrs. Wyburn, don't say that. What would you advise instead then—a red crochet woollen shawl? I'll get one, of course. How lovely that embroidery is getting that you're doing! I remember last February thinking that it was as beautiful as it could be, and now it is more wonderful still. Let me look."
She bent down her pretty head to admire it.
"Is it my fancy, or the light, or hasn't your hair grown a little brighter in colour lately, Valentia dear?"
"Oh, do you really think so? I'm so glad. I was afraid it was just the same—just as it was in Harry's portrait of me, you know."
"It does look very like the portrait. But, very frankly—you won't mind my saying so?—I think that if it were not quite so fair it would be an improvement."
"Oh, naughty Mrs. Wyburn! Fancy your wanting me to touch up my hair—make it dark at the roots, I suppose, as so many people seem to do! Oh! I wouldn't! What would Romer say? He likes it like this."
Before the elder lady had quite recovered from the blow, Valentia went on carelessly—
"Daphne sent her love to you. She mayn't have time to come and see you before we leave."
"Has she been going to any more fancy balls as Rosalind?" asked Mrs. Wyburn sarcastically.
"No, oh no. There haven't been any more."