Her guest gave a moment to reflection, during which Bertha regarded her intently.
"If I were going to begin at all," she said, rather slowly, "I think it would be with Colonel Tredennis."
There was a moment of silence, and then Bertha spoke, in a somewhat cold and rigid voice,
"What do you like about him?" she asked.
"I think I like everything."
"If you were any one else," said Bertha, "I should say that you simply like his size. I think that is generally it. Women invariably fall victims to men who are big and a little lumbering. They like to persuade themselves that they are overawed and subjected. I never understood it myself. Big men never pleased me very much—they are so apt to tread on you."
"I like his eyes," said Agnes, apparently reflecting aloud; "they are very kind. And I like his voice"—
"It is rather too deep," remarked Bertha, "and sometimes I am a little afraid it will degenerate into a growl, though I have never heard it do so yet."
Mrs. Sylvestre went on: