“What elegance in every movement!”
“With what inborn courtesy she accepted the little valueless attentions, which were all we could render her!”
“How beautiful she looked, in all the disorder of a dress so unlike her own splendor! I could almost fancy that old straw chair to be a handsome fauteuil since she sat in it.”
“How delightful it must be to be admitted to the freedom of daily intercourse with such a person, to live within the atmosphere of such goodness and such refinement!” And thus they went on ringing the changes upon every gift and grace, from the genial warmth of her heart, to the snowy whiteness of her dimpled hands; while Grouusell fidgeted in his chair, searched for his handkerchief, his spectacles, his snuff-box, dropped them all in turn, and gathered them up again, in a perfect fever of embarrassment and indecision.
“And you see her every day, doctor?” said Nelly.
“Yes, every day, madam,” said he, hastily, and not noticing nor thinking to whom he was replying.
“And is she always as charming, always as fascinating?”
“Pretty much the same, I think,” said he, with a grunt.
“How delightful! And always in the same buoyancy of spirits?”
“Very little changed in that respect,” said he, with another grunt.