Explore "Two Bad Blue Eyes" by Eliza Margaret Jane Humphreys on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
A cold, wet afternoon in March. But a few days ago people believed in spring. There was abundance of sunshine, of blue sky, of tender, venturesome birds; there had been piles of violets and primroses in the flower-girls' baskets, as they moved about the London streets; a breath of genuine spring-time in the soft air; but now all was cold and bleak and drear once more, and people went back shiveringly to fires and furs, and abused the treacherous English climate to their hearts' content. The external cold and dreariness were shut out effectually in a house in fashionable Mayfair. A sort of small drawing-room, opening off the grandeur and luxury of a larger one; a room with a hundred costly knick-knacks scattered about, with velvet draperies, and filled with hothouse flowers, and over which the fire-gleams played.
A silver tea-urn stands hissing on a low table by the fire -- dainty cups stand beside it. All is warm, fragrant, pleasant to the eye and the senses, and a silvery babble of women's voices adds life to the scene.