I'll finish dressing afterward if it has." It had.

It was upon a small table in the rose and gold boudoir.

And the sun, shining softly in at the creeper-shaded window, rejoiced in the surpassing brightness and cleanness of the dishes of silver and thinnest porcelain and cut glass.

Margaret thought eating in bed a "filthy, foreign fad," and never indulged in it.

She seated herself lazily, drank her coffee, and ate her roll and her egg slowly, deliberately, reading her letters and glancing at the paper.