A large photograph on a little shelf-easel. This pier glass Lulu approached with expectation, not because of herself but because of the photograph on its low marble shelf. In the midst of all was Lulu herself reflected in the narrow pier glass, bodiless-looking in her blue gingham gown, but somehow alive. Colourless, fireless, and with a dust of ashes. Lulu dusted the upright piano, and that was like Dwight-in a perpetual attitude of rearing back, with paws out, playful, but capable, too, of roaring a ready bass.Īnd the black fireplace-there was Mrs. Really, the davenport looked like Ina, for its chintz pattern seemed to bear a design of lifted eyebrows and arch, reproachful eyes. The leather rocker, too, looked like Ina, brown, plumply upholstered, tipping back a bit. She dusted the black walnut centre table which was of Ina's choosing, and looked like Ina, shining, complacent, abundantly curved. The parlour was rarely used, but every morning it was dusted.
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