It was in shadow, for only a shaded reading-lamp was lighted, and his first impression was of four windows; they appeared like four square panels of dark blue, patterned with stars.

Then a figure rose to meet him--a figure in blue draperies, with heavy braids wound around the head, and a low, resonant voice said, "I am Mrs.Wayne." As soon as he could he walked to the windows and looked out to the river and the long, lighted curves of the bridges, and beyond to Long Island, to just the ground where the Battle of Long Island had been fought--a battle in which an ancestor of his had particularly distinguished himself.

He said something polite about the view.
"Let us sit here where we can look out," she said, and sank down on a low sofa drawn under the windows.

As she did so she came within the circle of light from the lamp.

She sat with her head leaned back against the window-frame, and he saw the fine line of her jaw, the hollows in her cheek, the delicate modeling about her brows, not obscured by much eyebrow, and her long, stretched throat.