They are only moderately well off." Her husband shrugged his shoulders, after the fashion of his sex.
"Let us hope," he said, "that it is Sir Henry who suffers." * * * * * Violet slipped out of her gown and dismissed her maid.

In her dressing-gown she sat before the open window.

Everywhere the place seemed steeped in the faint violet and purple light preceding the dawn.
Away eastwards she could catch a glimpse of the mountains, their peaks cut sharply against the soft, deep sky; a crystalline glow, the first herald of the hidden sunrise, hanging about their summits.

The gentle breeze from the Mediterranean was cool and sweet.

There were many lights still gleaming upon the sea, but their effect now seemed tawdry.