She ensconced herself, early in the evening, in that room at the head of the stairs, and there they who chose to see her made their way up to her, and spoke their little speeches. They who thought her to be a great woman,--and many people did think her to be great,--were wont to declare that she never forgot those who did come, or those who did not. And even they who desired to describe her as little,--for even Lady Monk had enemies,--would hint that though she never came out of the room, she would rise from her chair and make a step towards the door whenever any name very high in fashionable life greeted her ears. So that a mighty Cabinet Minister, or a duchess in great repute, or any special wonder of the season, could not fail of entering her precincts and being seen there for a few moments. It would, of course, happen that the doorway of her chamber would become blocked; but there were precautions taken to avoid this inconvenience as far as possible, and one man in livery was employed to go backwards and forwards between his mistress and the outer world, so as to keep the thread of a passage open.
But though Lady Monk was in this way enabled to rest herself during her labours, there was much in her night's work which was not altogether exhilarating. Ladies would come into her small room and sit there by the hour, with whom she had not the slightest wish to hold conversation. The Duchess of St. Bungay would always be there,--so that there was a special seat in one corner of the room which was called the Duchess' stool. "I shouldn't care a straw about her," Lady Monk had been heard to complain, "if she would talk to anybody. But nobody will talk to her, and then she listens to everything."

She stayed in that room at the head of the stairs, and they who wished to see her made their way up and spoke their little speeches. She would rise from her chair and take a step towards the door to greet anyone very high in fashionable life, like a Cabinet Minister or a duchess. Of course the doorway of her chamber would become blocked; but a man in livery was employed to go backwards and forwards between his mistress and the outer world.
But ladies would also come into her small room and sit there by the hour, with whom Lady Monk had not the slightest wish to hold conversation. The Duchess of St. Bungay would always be there.
"I shouldn't care a straw about her," Lady Monk had been heard to complain, "if she would talk to anybody. But nobody will talk to her, and she listens to everything."
