"My brother will be here directly.

He wants to show you his special books," said Miss Wenlock shyly.
The Master's sister was a small and withered lady, who had been something of a beauty, and was now the pink of gentle and middle-aged decorum.

She was one of those women it is so easy to ignore till you live with them.

Then you perceive that in their relations to their own world, the world they make and govern, they are of the stuff which holds a country together, without which a country can not exist.

She might have come out of a Dutch picture--a Terburg or a Metsu--so exquisite was she in every detail--her small, white head, her regular features, the lace coif tied under her chin, the ruffles at her wrist, the black brocade gown, which never altered in its fashion and which she herself cut out, year after year, for her maid to make,--the chatelaine of old Normandy silver, given her by her brother years before, which hung at her waist.
Opposite her sat a very different person, yet of a type no less profitable to this mixed life of ours.