She was one of the few women who really can think, and enjoy it.

This morning she soon put down the mad clever little prophetic Oxford journal.

Considering she was usually the most reposeful woman in London, she was rather restless today.

She glanced round the little room; there was nothing in it to distract or irritate, or even to suggest a train of thought; except perhaps the books; everything was calming and soothing, with a touch of gaiety in the lightness of the wall decorations.

An azalea, certainly, would be a good note.