CHAPTER II

WESTCOTT EVENING A mirror rimmed with gold hung on the wall opposite the door; the side walls were covered with books, save where the fireplace framed a gold-pressed cavernous glow of light and colour. Into and out of the mirror everything had entered and faded--now it was still, because the dancing was over and they were quiet, scattered in little gentle groups about the room. The mirror caught the door, the shining floor and a broken pattern of colour, the silver tissue of a fragment of dress, shoe buckles, arms …