"There, in that chair, by your side."
She turned and looked at the chair with a strange look, which was wonderful to see, but quite indescribable. She drew it to the hearth, and sat down in it, throwing back her wet skirts and leaning towards the fire. Then I saw that she looked pale and worn, as if her riding had not done her much good.
"Do you not love her, this Mrs. Hollingford?" she said, presently.
"Dearly," I said.
"Will you describe her to me?" said Rachel.
"She is tall and handsome," I began.
"Yes," put in Rachel, "I have heard so."
"There is something grand about her, though she dresses as gravely and poorly as a nun. Her face is sweet and sad, and can be stern. Her hair is silver gray—"
"No," said Rachel hurriedly, "brown. I heard that it was a beautiful chestnut-brown."
"It is nearly white now," said I.