"Pshaw! who ever called regal Semiramis pretty? Such a weak adjective. But I guess your meaning. Her mind was more beautiful than her face."
"If her face had been as beautiful as her mind, sir," replied Axton, in the Johnsonian style, "she would have been the most beautiful woman in the world."
"Like Dulcinea, eh, Don Quixote Roger? Well; and you met often—juxtaposition is fatal—and love sprang up like Jonah's gourd in one night."
"No; she was not a woman to be lightly won. Judith had with her a cousin—a pretty, golden-haired damsel, whom she worshipped."
"Oh! had you met Golden-hair before?"
"Yes; but I didn't take much notice of her."
"Of course. Preferred brunette to blonde!"
"Decidedly. Well, Florry Marson—"
"The blue-eyed darling?"
"Yes. Florry Marson was a foolish, frivolous little thing, who had been confided to Judith's care by her dead mother."