Hill was exchanging greetings with his hostess, and salutations around the table. As she danced there was in her ears the faded echo of wooden tom-toms. "Your sister is dead," said he, in a deep whisper. "Let us in," said the Master, rapping his truncheon authoritatively against the boards, "or we'll force an entrance. 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. " The woollen-draper made no answer, but hastily starting up, bolted the door. It was interesting to see how different and characteristic his mode of approach was to all sorts of questions that interested her, and it was amusing to discover this other side to the life of a Morningside Park inhabitant.
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