ing the shining thing round her neck as she went--a swaying figure in soft flying draperies and gleaming, upraised arms.
She entered the drawing-room with a quiet deliberation greater even than common. It was the effect that haste and contrition frequently wrought in her--one of the things that made folk call her 'too self-contained,' even 'a trifle supercilious.'
There were already a dozen or so persons in the gold-and-white drawing-room, yet the moment Vida Levering entered, she knew from the questing glance Mrs. Freddy sent past her children's visitor, that even now the party was not complete.
Other eyes turned that way as the servant announced 'Miss Levering.' It is seldom that in this particular stratum of Lo