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Updated: May 6, 2025
On the last day of the year he was putting a few final touches to it, little high reflected lights on the black keys, little blacknesses of shadow in the moulding of the panel behind his hand. He had finished with her altogether, and now she sat in the window-seat, looking out, and playing with the blind-tassel.
The blind-tassel tapped and tapped, now here, now there, like a trapped creature seeking frantically for escape. For a space he sat quite motionless, gazing before him as though unaware of his surroundings. Then very suddenly but very quietly he reached out and caught the swaying thing.
The sun's shining, isn't it? Clare stood by the window, and swung the blind-tassel. They had five days of Paris before them, and Paris suddenly seemed empty.... 'We're going to have a topping week, she said. Then Lord Pinkerton came in. 'Hobart gone? he asked Jane. 'Yes. 'Majendie in my room? 'Yes. Lord Pinkerton patted Clare's shoulder as he passed her.
'Send Miss Hope in to me when she comes, Babs, he said, and disappeared through the farther door. Jane began to type. It bored her, but she was fairly proficient at it. Her childhood's training stood her in good stead. 'Mr. Hobart must have run his train pretty fine, if he came in here on the way, said Clare, twirling the blind-tassel. 'He wasn't going till twelve, said Jane, typing.
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