Her throat was covered with a fine white lawn
handkerchief; her dress was mercifully long enough to conceal her
boots; her bonnet was perfectly straight, and the strings tied by some
one who understood that bows should be pulled out and otherwise
fancifully manipulated. As she carried a muff as large as a big drum,
she had conceived the happy idea of dispensing altogether with gloves,
and I saw that one of the fingers she gave me to shake was adorned with
a diamond ring.
"Miss Elmsdale's," whispered Taylor to me. "It belonged to her mother."
Hearing which, I understood Helena had superintended her aunt's toilet.
"Did you ever see Miss Elmsdale?" I inquired of our manager.
"Not for years," was the answer. "She bade fair to be pretty."
"Why does not Miss Blake bring her out with her sometimes?" I asked.
"I believe she is expecting the Queen to give her assent to her marrying
the Prince of Wales," explained Taylor, "and she does not wish her to
appear much in public until after the wedding."
The court was crammed. Somehow it had got into the papers--probably
through Colonel Morris' gossips at the club--that ours was likely to
prove a very interesting case, and though the morning was damp and
wretched, ladies and gentlemen had turned out into the fog and drizzle,
as ladies and gentlemen will when there seems the least chance of a new
sensation being provided for them.
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