‘What did you do with the portrait then? Not that I suppose it is much use any longer. In a convent, you understand, one is like a servant, even if one is a lady. ” She finished her breakfast and strolled out across the garden with the letters still in her hand. Her greatest exploit was the howling before the mid-day meal. She sat on the edge of the bed —the wardress was too busy with the flood of arrivals that day to discover that she had it down—and her skin was shivering from the contact of these garments. She was supposed to be reading at home, and after breakfast she strolled into the vegetable garden, and having taken up a position upon the staging of a disused greenhouse that had the double advantage of being hidden from the windows of the house and secure from the sudden appearance of any one, she resumed the reading of Mr. ” “She invited me to dinner anyway. He was walking listlessly along, well-dressed, debonnair, good-looking. . " "I liked that, too," she replied; "but it wasn't that I had in mind.
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