“In bed, or up?”
“Oh, up.”
“Will you tell her I am here?”
Madame St. Vincent, her plumage somewhat ruffled, betook herself to the floor above, Mr. Tamlyn following. Lady Jenkins, in a loose gown of blue quilted silk and a cap with yellow roses in it, sat at the window, nodding.
“Well,” said he, sitting down by her and taking her hand, “and how do you feel to-day?”
She opened her eyes and smiled at him. Better, she thought: oh yes, certainly better.
“You are sleepy.”
“Rather so. Getting up tired me.”
“Are you not going for a drive to-day? It would do you good.”
“I don’t know. Ask Patty. Patty, are we going out to-day?”