"Oh, Carson is not so black as he's painted," said he with a great air of liberality.
"As he paints, I suppose, you mean," pertly rejoined Mrs. Gruyère.
"There is a form of colour-blindness that makes its victim see everything black!" said Mrs. Capron drily. Mrs. Gruyère sniffed again.
"You need be colour-blind when you look at his eyes," she said unpleasantly; "but some people have a morbid liking for deformity."
They all looked astonished.
"Deformity!" cried Mrs. Capron; "why, everybody admires his striking eyes!"
"And, dear lady," said Abinger, with great tendresse, "do you really suppose that the colour of Carson's eyes has anything to do with it? It's the flame inside him that draws us and scorches us. He's made up of fire and iron, and——"
"Brass," said Mrs. Gruyère neatly—for her.
At this opportune moment Carson sauntered round the corner and joined them, and Mrs. Gruyère's face became so like a Bougainvillea flower that there was hardly any difference, except that the Bougainvillea was prettier.
"How do you do, Sir Evelyn?" said Mrs. Portal, tendering him her hand tranquilly. "Talking of brass, can it be true that you are very rich?"