"Yes, tall, and with something of—of—what shall I say—dignity, about her."
"She is not grand, I hope?"
"I don't know what you call grand."
"Not grand in a bad sense;—I'm sure she is not that. But there are some ladies who seem to stand so high above the level of ordinary females as to make us who are ordinary quite afraid of them."
"My mother is certainly not ordinary," said Captain Aylmer.
"And I am," said Clara, laughing. "I wonder what she'll say to me,—or, rather, what she will think of me." Then there was a moment's silence, after which Clara, still laughing, went on. "I see, Fred, that you have not a word of encouragement to give me about your mother."
"She is rather particular," said Captain Aylmer.
Then Clara drew herself up, and ceased to laugh. She had called herself ordinary with that half-insincere depreciation of self which is common to all of us when we speak of our own attributes, but which we by no means intend that they who hear us shall accept as strictly true, or shall re-echo as their own approved opinions. But in this instance Captain Aylmer, though he had not quite done that, had done almost as bad.
"Then I suppose I had better keep out of her way," said Clara, by no means laughing as she spoke.
"Of course when we are married you must go and see her."