It was a beautiful room with hardly anything in it; a large, high, empty room in pure First Empire style. A small yellow sofa with gilded claws, and narrow bolster cushions, was near the fireplace; a light blue curved settee, with animals' heads, was in the middle of the room. There was a highly polished parquet floor with no carpet, a magnificent chandelier, and the curtains were held up by elaborately carved and gilded cornices with warlike ornaments.
Bertie wandered round the room, tried, vainly, to see himself in the narrow looking-glass, which was placed too high, and admired the refreshing absence of fat cushions, unnecessary draperies, photographs, and vases of flowers. On a small console-table was one immense basket of mauve orchids. Bertie was looking at this with some curiosity, not unmixed with annoyance, when Felicity came into the room.
"How marvellous of you!" he exclaimed. "Again I'm thunderstruck at your having exactly the right thing to wear, to come down early in the morning to see a too persistent friend!" He looked at her dress. "Pale green—how well it suits you; and how wonderful of you to be so empireish—at this hour!"
"What do you want, Bertie?" said Felicity, smiling, but impatiently.
"Oh, please don't be so definite! and I thought you knew!"
"Please don't be so imbecile; I don't want to know."
They both sat down, and she held out the letter.
"I didn't read all this," she said; "but you seem to have given me a programme of your engagements for to-day. I can't think why."
"Because I want to know yours. To come to the point," said Wilton. "If I go to the Ogilvies', will you be there?"
"Well, of course! As if Vera could have a musical afternoon without me!"