Well, as I was saying, Evie is really engaged: Mrs.Dorset had her to stay with Percy Gryce, and managed it all, and Grace Van Osburgh is in the seventh heaven--she had almost despaired of marrying Evie." Mrs.Peniston again paused, but this time her scrutiny addressed itself, not to the furniture, but to her niece.
"Cornelia Van Alstyne was so surprised: she had heard that you were to marry young Gryce.

She saw the Wetheralls just after they had stopped with you at Bellomont, and Alice Wetherall was quite sure there was an engagement.

She said that when Mr.Gryce left unexpectedly one morning, they all thought he had rushed to town for the ring." Lily rose and moved toward the door.
"I believe I AM tired: I think I will go to bed," she said; and Mrs.
Peniston, suddenly distracted by the discovery that the easel sustaining the late Mr.Peniston's crayon-portrait was not exactly in line with the sofa in front of it, presented an absent-minded brow to her kiss.
In her own room Lily turned up the gas-jet and glanced toward the grate.
It was as brilliantly polished as the one below, but here at least she could burn a few papers with less risk of incurring her aunt's disapproval.

She made no immediate motion to do so, however, but dropping into a chair looked wearily about her.

Her room was large and comfortably-furnished--it was the envy and admiration of poor Grace Stepney, who boarded; but, contrasted with the light tints and luxurious appointments of the guest-rooms where so many weeks of Lily's existence were spent, it seemed as dreary as a prison.