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Updated: June 5, 2025
Whilst Graye paused, two persons came from the front door of the half-hidden dwelling whom he presently saw to be Manston and his wife. Manston was wearing his old garden-hat, and carried one of the monthly magazines under his arm.
And there, at the end of the path, in the shade of an oleander-tree, with her back towards him, stood a young woman a young woman in a pearl-grey frock, and a garden-hat, beneath which one could see that her hair was dark.
After taking a plain white muslin scarf, a pair of light gray kid gloves, and a garden-hat of Tuscan straw, from the drawers of the wardrobe, she locked it, and put the key carefully in her pocket. Instead of at once proceeding to dress herself, she sat idly looking at the two muslin gowns; careless which she wore, and yet inconsistently hesitating which to choose.
Laetitia begged her to come to her room with her. "I want air: I must be by myself," said Clara, catching at her garden-hat. She walked swiftly to the portico steps and turned to the right, to avoid the laboratory windows. Clara met Vernon on the bowling-green among the laurels. She asked him where her father was. "Don't speak to him now," said Vernon. "Mr. Whitford, will you?"
She hurriedly put on the gown, without going near her looking-glass. For the first time in her life she shrank from meeting the reflection of herself except for a moment, when she arranged her hair under her garden-hat, leaving the glass again immediately. She drew her scarf over her shoulders and fitted on her gloves, with her back to the toilet-table.
Up to the day when we first met with her, her garden-hat in her hand, reading her telegram by the garden window, she had been eight years governor of Wanless and for nearly two of those years alone.
"I vow it is!" Dipping her pen in the ink, she began upon corrections. The sun filtered through the thick leafage overhead, touching her white dress, her small shoes, and the masses of her hair. She wore a Leghorn garden-hat, tied with pink ribbons under her chin, and in her morning freshness and daintiness she looked about seventeen.
"Did he look as if he were enjoying himself? He was very agreeable. I did not know he could be so agreeable." "I have never seen him look as much pleased," answered Emily Fox-Seton. "Though he always looks as if he liked talking to you, Lady Agatha. That large white gauze garden-hat" reflectively "is so very becoming." "It was very expensive," sighed lovely Agatha.
She wore a garden-hat, of white straw, with a big daring rose-red bow, under which the dense meshes of her hair, warmly dark, dimly bright, shimmered in a blur of brownish gold. "What vigour, what verve, what health," thought Peter, watching her, "what lean, fresh, fragrant health!" And he had, no doubt, his emotions.
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