Miss Tomalin stood up, looked at the plants and flowers about her, and added in a voice already more courageous:
"What a charming room! Green is so good for the eyes."
"Are your eyes weak?" inquired Lady Ogram, anxiously.
"Oh, not really weak," was the rapid answer (Miss Tomalin spoke more quickly as she gained confidence), "I use glasses when I am studying or at the piano, but they're not actually necessary. Still, I have been advised to be careful. Of course I read a great deal."
There was a spontaneity, a youthful vivacity, in her manner, which saved it from the charge of conceit; she spoke with a naive earnestness pleasantly relieved by the smile in her grey eyes and by something in the pose of her head which suggested a latent modesty.
"I know you are a great student," said Lady Ogram, regarding her amiably. "But run and take off your hat, and come back to tea."
She and Constance sat together, silent. They did not exchange glances.
"Well?" sounded at length from the throne, a tentative monosyllable.
Constance looked up. She saw that Lady Ogram was satisfied, happy.
"I'm glad Miss Tomalin was so punctual," was all she could find to say.