There was something dreadful and portentous about
the calm and studied deliberation with which she
critically viewed that reflection. She lifted her arms
slowly and patted into place the locks that had become
disarranged, turning her head from side to side to study
the effect. Then she took from a drawer the bit of
chamois skin that I had given her, and passed it lightly
over her eyelids and cheeks, humming softly to herself
the while. No music ever sounded so uncanny to my ears.
The woman before the mirror looked at the woman in the
mirror with a long, steady, measuring look. Then, slowly
and deliberately, the long graceful folds of her lovely
gown trailing behind her, she walked over to where her
frowning husband stood. So might a queen have walked,
head held high, gaze steady. She stopped within half a
foot of him, her eyes level with his. For a long
half-minute they stood thus, the faded blue eyes of the
wife gazing into the sullen black eyes of the husband,
and his were the first to drop, for all the noble
blood in Anna Nirlanger's veins, and all her long line of
gently bred ancestors were coming to her aid in dealing
with her middle-class husband.
"You forget," she said, very slowly and distinctly.
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