THE PARAGRAPH IN THE "GAZETTE"
"My dear," said Miss Selina Boyle, "I am in some trouble, and must seek your advice even at the risk of a confession."
Her exquisite face was half concealed by the shadow of her large black hat, but over her round chin and throat, over the radiant hair that flowed in glittering little curls on to her muslin bodice, the afternoon sun, pouring through the long French window, rested brightly.
She had come upon Miss Chressham at tea; the delicate china was set out on the tulip-wood table, and Susannah, pale and fair in lavender, had laid aside her tapestry frame.
"A confession!" she smiled.
But her visitor's face remained grave.
"It may come to that," she said, and her sweet lips trembled.
Susannah Chressham looked at her, thinking of nothing but the frail and endearing beauty she saw. Selina had taken off her black lace pelisse, and from head to foot was in white, fine lawn, that billowed round the gilt chair. Her silk parasol, of the blue of a forget-me-not, rested against her knee, and at her breast was a cream-tinted rose.
"You are very serious," said Miss Chressham tenderly.
"I think I have a serious matter to deal with," breathed Miss Boyle.