In a moment or two, Madame Valade recovered her sangfroid. He never appears to so little advantage as when speaking of him. He came in apologetically; all the old “Well, and how ARE we?” note gone; and once he asked Ann Veronica, almost furtively, “How’s Alice getting on, Vee?” Finally, on the Day, he appeared like his old professional self transfigured, in the most beautiful light gray trousers Ann Veronica had ever seen and a new shiny silk hat with a most becoming roll. In some cases they were ground almost to powder; in others, driven deeply into the earth, as if discharged from a piece of ordnance. "Leave him to me," he said. There was a confused impression of livery carriages and whips with white favors, people fussily wanting other people to get in before them, and then the church.
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