"But it must always be something new-fangled; and after all it isn't of much account. Our young men like to have quite a time at dancing."
It all came through her nose! And she looked so common! What would the Duke say to her, or Mary, or even Gerald? The father was by no means so objectionable. He was a tall, straight, ungainly man, who always wore black clothes. He had dark, stiff, short hair, a long nose, and a forehead that was both high and broad. Ezekiel Boncassen was the very man,—from his appearance,—for a President of the United States; and there were men who talked of him for that high office. That he had never attended to politics was supposed to be in his favour. He had the reputation of being the most learned man in the States, and reputation itself often suffices to give a man dignity of manner. He, too, spoke through his nose, but the peculiar twang coming from a man would be supposed to be virile and incisive. From a woman, Lord Silverbridge thought it to be unbearable. But as to Isabel, had she been born within the confines of some lordly park in Hertfordshire, she could not have been more completely free from the abomination.
"I am sorry that you should not be enjoying yourself," said Mr. Boncassen, coming to his wife's relief.
"Nothing could have been nicer. To tell the truth, I am standing idle by way of showing my anger against your daughter, who would not dance with me."
"I am sure she would have felt herself honoured," said Mr. Boncassen.
"Who is the gentleman with her?" asked the mother.
"A particular friend of mine—Dolly Longstaff."
"Dolly!" ejaculated Mrs. Boncassen.
"Everybody calls him so. His real name I believe to be Adolphus."
"Is he,—is he—just anybody?" asked the anxious mother.