“You are so sweet, Lucy. A quarter of an hour passed. He was not due from the City until about six, and so she went and played Badminton with the Widgett girls until dinner-time. It would be downright cruel to disillusion her. Died short, I suppose, and the girls had to shift for themselves. Their idea of maidenly innocence was just a blank white—the sort of flat white that doesn’t shine. She walked over to them still carrying the trousers in her hands, and stooped to examine them. Were I a painter of subject pictures, I would exhaust all my skill in proportion and perspective and atmosphere upon the august seat of empire, I would present it gray and dignified and immense and respectable beyond any mere verbal description, and then, in vivid black and very small, I would put in those valiantly impertinent vans, squatting at the base of its altitudes and pouring out a swift, straggling rush of ominous little black objects, minute figures of determined women at war with the universe.
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