See paragraph 1. A brief calm succeeded. “No, you weren’t bad in the slightest. He's more like a lord than—" As she spoke, steps were heard approaching; the door was thrown open, and a young man marched boldly into the room. The latch had not fully caught. She was a small blonde, not handsome, but with a flair for fashion demonstrated by her elegant chemise gown in the very latest Canterbury muslin, with its low décolletage barely concealed under a fine lawn handkerchief set about her shoulders, and decorated with a mauve satin sash at the waist.
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