“Awfully foreign and distinguished!”
This brought Hedrick to confront her with a leap as of some wild animal under a lash. He landed close to her; his face awful.
“Princely, I should call him,” said Cora, her enthusiasm undaunted. “Distinctly princely!”
“Princely,” moaned Hedrick. “Pe-rin-sley!”
“Hedrick!” Mrs. Madison reproved him automatically. “In what way is he `foreign,’ Cora?”
“Oh, every way.” Cora let her glance rest dreamily upon the goaded boy. “He has a splendid head set upon a magnificent torso——”
“Torso!” Hedrick whispered hoarsely.
“Tall, a glorious figure—like a young guardsman’s.” Madness was gathering in her brother’s eyes; and observing it with quiet pleasure, she added: “One sees immediately he has the grand manner, the bel air.”
Hedrick exploded. “`Bel air’!” he screamed, and began to jump up and down, tossing his arms frantically, and gasping with emotion. “Oh, bel air! Oh, blah! `Henry Esmond!’ Been readin’ `Henry Esmond!’ Oh, you be-yoo-tiful Cora-Beatrix-a-lee! Magganifisent torso! Gullo-rious figgi-your! Bel air! Oh, slush! Oh, luv-a-ly slush!” He cast himself convulsively upon the floor, full length. “Luv-a-ly, luv-a-ly slush!”
“He is thirty, I should say,” continued Cora, thoughtfully. “Yes—about thirty. A strong, keen face, rather tanned. He’s between fair and dark——”