Malo.
Madame Chalice looked out of this ancient avenue, a contrast, yet a
harmony; for, though her dress was modern, her person had a rare touch of
the archaic, and fitted into the picture like a piece of beautiful
porcelain, coloured long before the art of making fadeless colours was
lost.
There was an amused, meditative smiling at her lips, a kind of wonder,
the tender flush of a new experience. She turned, and, stepping softly
into the salon, seated herself near the immense chimney, in a heavily
carved chair, her feet lost in rich furs on the polished floor. A quaint
table at her hand was dotted with rare old books and miniatures, and
behind her ticked an ancient clock in a tall mahogany case.
Valmond came forward, hat in hand, and raised to his lips the fingers she
gave him. He did it with the vagueness of one in a dream, she thought,
and she neither understood nor relished his uncomplimentary abstraction;
so she straightway determined to give him some troublesome moments.
"I have waited to drink my coffee with you," she said, motioning him to a
seat; "and you may smoke a cigarette, if you wish."
Her eyes wandered over his costume with critical satisfaction.
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