The midwife, an old, thin, inscrutable Madrassi, came to the hall and sat on her haunches in a corner, smoking, silent, her eyes bright.

The maid was on the step, cheapening fish with a virulent lady who had a sieve-full to dispose of.

There was no moon, only stars set brilliantly in the soft black onyx of the sky : a black night and very silent on Cimiez ; and a black and silent prospect from the verandah […]

Uncritical reading and inappropriate intellectual endeavor were frequently satirized in the form of a naive or Quixotic lady.