“A positive triumph!” he cried. “My dear young lady—my dear Miss Perry—my dear Miss Araminta, the highest hopes of a sanguine temperament have been exceeded. Art, the handmaiden, has done her work nobly, but of course the real triumph belongs to Nature.”
“Isn’t my new frock a nice one?” said Miss Perry.
“Incomparable.”
“It is almost as nice as the mauve one Muffin had last summer but one,” said Miss Perry.
It seemed to Cheriton that the speech of Miss Perry was absurdly suited to her clothes. He led her proudly to the morning-room.
“Caroline,” said he, “prepare for the conquest of London.”
That old woman had never looked so fierce. As a preliminary she snuffed the air.
“Burden,” said she, “cease behaving like a fool and have the goodness to get my spectacles.”
Miss Burden obeyed her in a kind of delirium. The scrutiny of the powers was severe and prolonged. There was no approbation in it.
“An old-fashioned respect for the English Sunday,” said Caroline, “precludes my going to church with a tableau vivant.”