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And she had on her wool chally, her coral beads, her cameo pin.... She went into the lighted dining-room. Monona was in bed. Di was not there. Mrs. Bett was in Dwight Herbert's leather chair and she lolled at her ease. It was strange to see this woman, usually so erect and tense, now actually lolling, as if lolling were the positive, the vital, and her ordinary rigidity a negation of her.
Abruptly Ninian rose and left the room. The dishes were washed. Lulu had washed them at break-neck speed she could not, or would not, have told why. But no sooner were they finished and set away than Lulu had been attacked by an unconquerable inhibition. And instead of going to the parlour, she sat down by the kitchen window. She was in her chally gown, with her cameo pin and her string of coral.
She had on the wool chally, long sacred to the nights when she must combine her servant's estate with the quality of being Ina's sister. She wore her coral beads and her cameo cross. In her absence she had caught the trick of dressing her hair so that it looked even more abundant but she had not dared to try it so until to-night, when Dwight was gone.
Lulu sat in a low rocker. Her starched white skirt, throwing her chally in ugly lines, revealed a peeping rim of white embroidery. Her lace front wrinkled when she sat, and perpetually she adjusted it. She curled her feet sidewise beneath her chair, her long wrists and veined hands lay along her lap in no relation to her. She was tense. She rocked.
"You will send me a suitable dress, I suppose," I said, calmly, "you know I am a pauper here." "Yes, fortunately I have two almost alike. Which shall it be, a chally or barege?" "It matters little, the color is all I care for. Let it be white; I have a superstition about being married in colors."
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