Alice watched the pair. Harriet was already practising small gestures, preenings and turnings of the head, which she had never used before in her thirty-two years of life, but which had been called out by half an hour of Lewis's company. There was an inhuman vigour in all her movements; they were so full of life and yet they had not the lithe sureness of an animal; it was as if nature were breathing her inspiration into some curious replica of a living being, neither animal nor human. Alice, standing for a moment on the opposite side of the hearth, caught Lewis's wink. She became convulsed with laughter like a mischievous schoolchild, and to conceal her mirth, she ran round the back of the sofa...now, for the first time...she saw what a very handsome dress Harriet was wearing...a silk, a deep jay's wing blue, and so stiff that it stood out by itself. She knew how much that sort of material cost.