Romer's mother, looking intensely cross--it was her form of deep thought--was re-embroidering, with extra little stitches, and unnecessary little French knots, and elaborate little buttonholes that would never see a button, a large and fine piece of embroidery on which she had been working for many months. She had that decadent love of minute finish in the unessential so often seen in persons of a nervous yet persistent temperament. She was expecting her daughter-in-law. Romer had said, "Val will look in this afternoon." * * * * * Valentia arrived, delightfully dressed, and, to the casual observer, looking just as usual, but in her costume there was just that nuance of difference--what was it?--extra sobriety, a more subdued look--some trifle that she had worn last year to suggest to the seeing eye a hint of praiseworthy economy?--at any rate, a shade that other young married women would recognise at once as the right note when calling on one's mother-in-law. Mrs. Wyburn greeted her with real pleasure, and with far more warmth than she ever showed to her son (her affection for him being authentic). The sight of Valentia, however, always genuinely raised her spirits. She was fascinated by her, and had an obscure desire to gain Valentia's liking, and even admiration--by force, if necessary! At the same time she felt jealousy, disapproval, an odd pride in the girl's charming appearance, and a venomous desire to give her slight pain. "Romer has been here, I see--I mean, I guess he has by the cigarette. He's the only person who's allowed to smoke here. Yes, Mrs. Wyburn, we're off on Wednesday. Won't you miss us awfully? But I shall be very glad to go. I've really had enough of the season." Val spoke with a shade of weariness. "No wonder! I suppose you've hardly had one quiet evening at home the last three weeks?" "Very likely not one. Even when we're quite alone Harry comes round, and often his American friend too." This was a challenge. Valentia was sitting opposite the light, dressed in blue, in a black hat of moderate size, looking straight at the elder lady with a smile, and stirring her cup of tea. Mrs. Wyburn admired her pluck and the fit of her dress. "Yes, exactly--just what I should have thought. You know what a horror I have of displaying anything in the shape or form of _interference_, dear Valentia. But, since you've mentioned it yourself, may I just say, doesn't it seem almost a pity that you should never be alone with your husband?" Valentia began to laugh. "Oh, really, Mrs. Wyburn, why do you assume that? But of course we're longing for a quiet time. That is why we're going away so early. What _delicious_ China tea! Yours is the only house where one gets it quite like this." She put down her cup, which was more than half full, with a slight sigh. "Romer hates China tea too," said Mrs. Wyburn. "It would be really better for your nerves if you'd drink it, my dear."