She dressed languidly, but very carefully, being one of those women who put on armour against Fate, because they are proud, and dislike the thought that their sufferings should make others suffer; because, too, their bodies are to them as it were sacred, having been given them in trust, to cause delight.

When she had finished, she looked at herself in the glass rather more distrustfully than usual.

She felt that her sort of woman was at a discount in these days, and being sensitive, she was never content either with her appearance, or her habits.

But, for all that, she went on behaving in unsatisfactory ways, because she incorrigibly loved to look as charming as she could; and even if no one were going to see her, she never felt that she looked charming enough.

She was--as Lady Casterley had shrewdly guessed--the kind of woman who spoils men by being too nice to them; of no use to those who wish women to assert themselves; yet having a certain passive stoicism, very disconcerting.