’ Lady Bicknacre, resplendent in purple satin, and basking in her triumphantly full rooms—for it was obvious that her patronage of the refugees had set a quickly to be followed fashion—was all sorrow and sympathy when Gerald spoke of them. Then for a time she sat very still. ‘What is the matter?’ ‘Is there nothing you do not know?’ she asked faintly. Her mind turned and accused itself of having been cold and hard. Twice we hired caterers. “I will not rob you of your coffee, most dutiful of sisters!” she exclaimed. But this might be merely a figurative mode of describing his customary vigilance. From the threshold she looked her accuser steadily and coldly in the face. Wood, who looks after her comforts, and visits her constantly. He looked half at her and half at the sky. "You base ingrate," she added, in a whisper, as she flounced past Mr.
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