CHAPTER XXIVHilary stopped in the drawing room for her music, passed Craig in the hall with an artless pause for admiration, and went joyfully on her way. The night was moonless, soft and warm, and the close low dome of the sky throbbed with winter stars. Her car slipped and bumped upon the thawing slush of the streets; the chauffeur’s hands looked like a bear’s paws on the wheel.
It was delicious, after percolating through the enormous bare odorous halls of what had once been a schoolhouse, and climbing the cold iron stairs, to open the door of the Alexandrowskis’ studio and find herself in a tableau of rich colour, warmth, and fragrance.
The immense square room, high-ceiled and faced on the north by immense windows, was full of touches of Russian colour: rich oriental rugs, fretted bra
