Here, also, she had shown her appreciation of its loveliness by having all the blinds drawn down. A muffled white radiance was all that she allowed to reach her from outside. Kingston, meanwhile, had been collecting letters and papers from the sideboard. ‘Letters for you, my dear,’ he said; ‘three.’ ‘Leave them there, darling, will you? I never look at my letters till after breakfast. It is so nice to make a habit of everything--yes?’ Her husband, returning to the table, helped himself and sat down. For a time the meal went forward in silence. Then he looked across at his wife with intense approval. In the softened light Gundred looked wonderfully pretty. The table was bare--a piece of oak too beautiful to hide--and beyond its dark surface, where silver, glass, and white china gleamed and glittered, Gundred’s head and shoulders rose in soft relief against a very old painted panel on the further wall, a dim, dingy portrait of King Henry the Seventh. Before her on the table stood a bowl of pink and salmon-coloured sweet-peas. In the dim, primeval room, in the quiet mellowed glow, she struck a note of exquisite modernity. The curled gold of her hair, the small clear features, the inconspicuously perfect gown harmonized, in the very audacity of their contrast, with the ripened antiquity that surrounded her. She touched another octave. From head to foot there was nothing about her to find fault with. And, against such a background, her charm was seen more whole and successful than in a garish setting of modern furniture and other, showier women. ‘By Jove!’ said Kingston, ‘you do look extraordinary cool and beautiful, Gundred. How do you manage it? I don’t believe you could ever grow old!’ Gundred was pleased. Such comments had been growing too rare. But she was one of those women who repel what they most desire, whether from motives of mortification or allurement, it would at first sight be hard to decide. ‘Nonsense, Kingston dear!’ she said; ‘one gets older every day. You must really not try to make me vain.’ ‘Never,’ replied her husband, ‘have I seen anyone who gave me the same perfect feeling of satisfaction that you do. You always look as if you had just come out of the smartest bandbox that was ever made. One can’t realize that it’s all taken to pieces again every night.’ ‘Don’t, dear,’ said Gundred. ‘You are always so exaggerated. I am so glad I look nice, but it is only a matter of taking pains. Anybody can be neat--yes?’ ‘I couldn’t. If it weren’t for Andrews, I should always have odd socks and boots, I am sure I should. I believe I am capable of wearing an up-and-down collar in the evening if it was put out for me. What would you do if I did, Gundred--divorce me on the spot?’