she allowed herself to wear but a few jewels at a time, she owned some for which she might have been envied by richer women.
While Sir Ian gazed at the portrait, his wife glanced hastily at her own reflection in three inches by two of mirror. Her long oval face was white, and there were shadows under the light blue eyes. Her thin but beautifully cut lips were pale and dry, and the brown hair, softly folding down on either side of the pure forehead, almost covering the ears, lacked lustre. Lady Hereward felt disappointed in herself, although the wide gray hat, which dress and gloves matched, was becoming in shape. She took a tiny powder-puff out of the gold vanity box, and gave a pearly effect to her pallor; then, a touch of pink salve (not vulgar red) outlined the delicate curve of the lips; and last of all, the dove-wing folds of hair were pulled a little more over the ears, which were not as pretty or well made as everything else about Lady Hereward.
"You two dears! how good of you to come, and how glad I am to see you both!" cried Mrs. Forestier's voice at the door.
She was a small, dark woman of large enthusiasms, rather gushing, and perhaps even somewhat insincere—at least Sir Ian thought her so; but he had loved her dead husband dearly, therefore he had a kindly if somewhat contemptuous toleration for her, and an almost romantic affection for Riding Wood.
