She looked into it, smiling and turning her head on one side, for a minute, then laid it down and took out her brush and comb from an upper drawer.

She was going to let down her hair, and make herself look like that picture of a lady in Miss Lydia Donnithorne's dressing-room.

It was soon done, and the dark hyacinthine curves fell on her neck.

It was not heavy, massive, merely rippling hair, but soft and silken, running at every opportunity into delicate rings.

But she pushed it all backward to look like the picture, and form a dark curtain, throwing into relief her round white neck.