Royal Purple
“Augustine toiled up the narrow flights of stairs with endless hot water bottles, and Lucy was never allowed to permit the fire to die down into what she considered a comfortable glow. The Countess insisted upon a roaring fire threatening the soot-caked chimney all the time, and at night it had to be banked up so that it couldn’t possibly go out. Lucy considered it was fortunate the weather had taken a nasty turn for the worse, and instead of warm spring sunshine and gentle breezes a gale that s...eemed to be blowing straight off fields of Arctic ice raged outside.March was going out like a lion, and the temptation to dwell upon the thought of Kensington Gardens—and Surrey lanes!—was not so strong when everyone who passed the windows looked blue with cold, and new spring hats were banished to the backs of wardrobes in favour of close-fitting head-scarves.The Countess sat up in bed protected from every draught by numberless shawls, and congratulated herself because she had been clever enough to choose such an inclement spell to stay confined to her room.MoreLess
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