“May I look?” Pamela took the canary jug.
“‘Long may we leve.
Happy may we be,
Blest with content,
And from misfortin’ free.’
“Most delightful sentiments, and equally delightful spelling,” she commented lightly, while Jethro watched her with a growing admiration, and the cold light slanted through the window on Gainah’s worn, malevolent face.
“What blue bowls and dishes! What luster! I think they call that coppery stuff luster.”
“My mother’s best tea set.” Jethro took up a tiny handleless cup with purplish-pink trails of flowers painted on it.
“Lowestoft, I think.” Pamela cocked her head on one side. “But I know nothing of china. Therefore I admire it all—that is a very safe rule in art. Now you and Gainah must run away.” She made a feint of pushing him toward the door. “I’m going to be busier than ever. All this must be arranged to the best advantage. Then the door will be left open, and when next we go to Liddleshorn you must buy a portière.”
She jumped upon a chair, and lifted bowls and dishes from the top shelf, making a running comment as she did so.