3691. There were only two of these giant windows facing the
lawn and gardens, and the crimson drapes against the pale yellow walls gave an
effect distinctly Russian and reminiscent of the Saint Petersburg Palaces of
the Tsar, before they was painted light green.
3692. The ladies were seated at a round table in the middle
of that room when a footman entered bearing a silver tray on which was a note
in a little envelope sealed with a wax stamp. Harriett opened the note
absentmindedly with one hand while taking a look at the winning hand of whist
she had just been dealt. Setting her cards face down on the table, she read the
note through, pushed a hand across her brow, and resumed playing cards.
3693. One of Harriett’s friends of long standing was
Natalie. Natalie was a chatterbox. She was known to run on endlessly about
every subject from things like the most up to date drape colors and fabrics to
the latest rising of the peasants in some remote province. She did not separate
her sentences or her ideas into compartments, and might start out talking about
a new style of shoe, and end by talking about the shortage of salt.
3694. Natalie interrupted a discussion about the price of
butter to ask Harriett what was bothering her. “Harriett,” she said, “You look
like one of your poodles just died dear, what is bothering you.”
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