"Is anybody coming in this afternoon ?" "Mrs.Tallents Smallpeace was going to bring a young man in, a Signor Pozzi-Egregio Pozzi, or some such name.

She says he is the coming pianist." Cecilia's face was spiced with faint amusement.

Some strain of her breeding (the Carfax strain, no doubt) still heard such names and greeted such proclivities with an inclination to derision.
Thyme snatched up her book.

"Well," she said, "I shall be in the attic.
If anyone interesting comes you might send up to me." She stood, luxuriously stretching, and turning slowly round in a streak of sunlight so as to bathe her body in it.

Then, with a long soft yawn, she flung up her chin till the sun streamed on her face.