She looked in the glass over and over as she checked for lint and makeup streaks. “I hope,” said Miss Stanley, with dignity, and turned doorward with features in civil warfare. "Mother!" cried the son, "help!" "What is this?" shrieked Lady Trafford, raising herself on the couch, and extending her hands towards him. “Can you not understand? It is of no use your taking my identity and all the burden of my iniquities upon your dear shoulders if I am to be recognized the moment I show my face in London. ’ ‘I beg your pardon?’ said Miss Froxfield frostily. Oh! you haven't got the key—then I must have it, I suppose. " A deep indignant groan followed.
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