She was already
unnaturally braced to receive them. As she occupied herself in laying
forks severely straight by the side of knives, she heard a man's voice
saying gloomily:
"On a dark night one would fall down these stairs head foremost," to
which a woman's voice added, "And be killed."
As she spoke the last words the woman stood in the doorway. Tall,
large-eyed, draped in purple shawls, Mrs. Ambrose was romantic and
beautiful; not perhaps sympathetic, for her eyes looked straight and
considered what they saw. Her face was much warmer than a Greek face;
on the other hand it was much bolder than the face of the usual pretty
Englishwoman.
"Oh, Rachel, how d'you do," she said, shaking hands.
"How are you, dear," said Mr. Ambrose, inclining his forehead to be
kissed. His niece instinctively liked his thin angular body, and the big
head with its sweeping features, and the acute, innocent eyes.
"Tell Mr. Pepper," Rachel bade the servant. Husband and wife then sat
down on one side of the table, with their niece opposite to them.
"My father told me to begin," she explained. "He is very busy with the
men. . . . You know Mr. Pepper?"
A little man who was bent as some trees are by a gale on one side of
them had slipped in. Nodding to Mr. Ambrose, he shook hands with Helen.
"Draughts," he said, erecting the collar of his coat.
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