She sprinkled silvery sound on that name or on the adieu, blushed, blinked, frowned, sweetened her lip-lines, bit at the underone, and passed in a discomposure.
'The lady?' Colney asked.
'She is—I meet her in the troop conducted by the riding-master: Mrs.
Marsett.'
'And who is Ned?'
'It is her husband, to whom she writes every morning. He is a captain in the army, or was. He is in Norway, fishing.'
'Then the probability is, that the English officer continues his military studies.'
'Do you not think her handsome, Mr. Durance?'
'Ned may boast of his possession, when he has trimmed it and toned it a little.!
'She is different, if you are alone with her.'
'It is not unusual,' said Colney.