She considered.
"I—don't know—-exactly."
"Is he cultivated?"
"Why, yes—I suppose so."
"Is he well bred?"
"Oh, yes; only—" she searched mentally—"he is not—may I say, conventional? formal?"
"It is an age of informality," observed Colonel Arran, carefully tracing out each separate grape in the horn of plenty.
Ailsa assented; spoke casually of something else; but when Colonel Arran brought the conversation around again to Berkley, she in nowise seemed reluctant.
"He is unusually attractive," she said frankly; "his features, at moments, are almost beautiful. I sometimes wonder whether he resembles his mother. Was she beautiful?"
"Yes."