Page 517 - the-portrait-of-a-lady

Chapter 37

Pansy was not in the first of the rooms, a large apartment
with a concave ceiling and walls covered with old red dam-
ask; it was here Mrs. Osmond usually sat-though she was
not in her most customary place to-night-and that a circle
of more special intimates gathered about the fire. The room
was flushed with subdued, diffused brightness; it contained
the larger things and-almost always-an odour of flowers.
Pansy on this occasion was presumably in the next of the
series, the resort of younger visitors, where tea was served.
Osmond stood before the chimney, leaning back with his
hands behind him; he had one foot up and was warming the
sole. Half a dozen persons, scattered near him, were talking
together; but he was not in the conversation; his eyes had
an expression, frequent with them, that seemed to repre-
sent them as engaged with objects more worth their while
than the appearances actually thrust upon them. Rosier,
coming in unannounced, failed to attract his attention; but
the young man, who was very punctilious, though he was
even exceptionally conscious that it was the wife, not the
husband, he had come to see, went up to shake hands with
him. Osmond put out his left hand, without changing his
attitude.
‘How d’ye do? My wife’s somewhere about.’
‘Never fear; I shall find her,’ said Rosier cheerfully.

517