"Well, he was tall and very straight, and had small ears and—er—a fairish mustache that was brushed up a little away from his lips, and—and cat's eyes, and—brown, crimpy hair, getting a little gray."
"Yes, yes; but I mean what sort of a man?"
"Oh! a gentleman."
"But of course."
"Well, he laughed at everything and called me an eighteenth-century comtesse."
"Did he know who you were?"
"No, not till the end, and then I do not think he realized that I was a connection of his."
"It does not matter," said grandmamma, low to herself, "as it is too late."
"Yes, I told him it was too late."
Grandmamma's voice sharpened.