§ 6
“I think,” said Miss Lambone in the silence, “that it is getting just a leetle chilly.”
“It is so beautiful here,” said Miss Means, who was warm in Miss Lambone’s shawl. “Perfectly beautiful.
“How you can talk of frustration—!” she added, and left her sentence incomplete.
“I think,” said Miss Lambone, “that I shall go in and light the candles. It is too wonderful a night for the electric lights, far too wonderful. We will just light the candles and the fire. And perhaps you will play us something beautiful. These are such marvellous fire-places here that they blaze up at once. I don’t know if you have noticed them—a new sort. The fire is all on the hearth—no draught below, but the shape of the back draws it up.
“I love a wood fire,” said Miss Lambone, and sighed and rose slowly and voluminously.