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He found her the next day in a pretty morning-room, dressed in a long white gown, with a single great yellow rose at her throat. She had a piece of tapestry in her hand, and as she rose to greet him, the plain, heavy folds of her gown clinging about her, and her dark hair bound closely around her head with a simplicity that was almost severe, Dartmouth again felt a humorous sense of having suddenly stepped into a page of a past century.
"What are you doing? " he said, as he took a chair opposite her. "Women never make tapestry -- real tapestry -- in these days. You remind me of Lady Jane Grey. Shall I get a volume of Greek and read it to you?"