CHAPTER X
LIZZIE BECOMES MISS RAND AGAIN
"So she put the handkerchief, and the pin, and the lock of hair back into the box, turned the key, and went resolutely about her everyday duties again."—Mrs. Ewing.
I
Lizzie was waiting for Lady Adela. She had finished her work for the day, had come from her own room to Lady Adela's and now stood at one of the high windows looking down upon the April sunshine that coloured the dignities of Portland Place.
The room was spacious and lofty, but curiously uncomfortable and lifeless. High book-cases with glass shutters revealed rows of "Cornhill" and "Blackwood" volumes, a long rather low table covered with a green cloth held a silver inkstand, a blotting-pad, pens and a calendar. There were stiff mahogany chairs ranged against the wall and old prints of Beaminster House (white-pillared, spacious with sloping lawns) and Eton College chapel faced the windows.
This was where Lady Adela spent several hours of every morning and she had never attempted to "do" anything with it. A large marble clock on the mantelpiece ticked out its sublime indifference to time and change. "We're the same, thank God," it said, "as we've always been."
Lady Adela had told Lizzie that she would come in from a drive at quarter to four and she would like then to speak to her.