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Updated: June 6, 2025
Those were occasions when the gay monotony of the place pressed, I imagine, a little heavily upon her, and the dullness she felt translated itself in her expression. But she was by no means unpleasing. 'I must go and see Lady Pilkey's picture, I said. 'What is the use? said Dora. 'It's a landscape in oils a view of the Himalayas, near Narkanda.
I felt some slight indignation on Lady Pilkey's account. 'Do you really think you ought to do things like that at the eleventh hour? I asked, but Dora smiled at a glance, the hypocrisy out of my face. 'What does anything matter? she demanded. I knew perfectly well the standard by which nothing mattered, and there was no use, of course, in going on pretending that I did not.
There were later instances, perhaps, of deeper satisfaction, but they were more or less perplexed, and not unobscured by anxiety. That afternoon it was all to know and to be experienced, with just a delicious foretaste. I said something presently about Lady Pilkey's picnic on the morrow, to which we had both been bidden. 'Shall I call for you? I asked. 'You will ride, of course.
'I haven't seen it this year. But I saw the one she sent last, and the one the year before that. You can trust my memory, really. 'No, I said, 'I can't. I'm dining there tonight. I must have an original impression. 'Congratulate her on the warm blaze of colour in the foreground. It's perfectly safe, urged Miss Harris, but I felt compelled to go myself to see lady Pilkey's landscape.
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