The chapel was situated in the old ballroom, and from there, down a few stairs, the vestry had taken the place of the pantry next to the kitchens. Kneebone was attired in the extremity of the mode. She smiled. Rot, no doubt; but we can’t alter it. He was a civil servant of some standing, and after a previous conversation upon aesthetics of a sententious, nebulous, and sympathetic character, he had sent her a small volume, which he described as the fruits of his leisure and which was as a matter of fact rather carefully finished verse. She had to make sure, for the peace of her mind, that this was really the man. Mirrors.
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