He had promised to have tea at the Vicarage, and he found Mrs.Trenchard putting holly over the pictures in the little dark square hall.

She looked as though she had always been there, and as though, in some curious way, the holly, with its bright red berries, especially belonged to her.
She asked him to help her, and Seymour thought that he must have known her all his life.

She had a tranquil, restful air, but, now and then, hummed a little tune.

She was very tidy as she moved about, picking up little scraps of holly.

A row of pins shone in her green dress.