"No, no," said Alice,—"let me have it now—When you change your opinion, you can let me know it.—What of their faces?"
"Mr. Gordon, then," said Margarette, "knows that he is handsome,—and he has studied the exterior of his head so much, that I should fear he has somewhat neglected the interior."
"And what of cousin Hubert's?"
"I think his head very fine—very classical. His face is decidedly intellectual—his eyes uncommonly good."
"And what of his mouth and teeth?" said Alice.
"Peculiarly handsome," said Margarette. "And now, as you can possibly have no more questions to ask, pray let me know your opinion."
"You must have known that a long time. Cousin Hubert is—I can't say what he is—but just what I approve; and as for Gordon, he is the divinest creature alive!"
While this conversation was going on in Mr. Claremont's parlor, one not dissimilar was carried on in the street betwixt the gentlemen, Montague and Gordon.
"Who is this new cousin of yours, Montague?" asked Gordon.
"I cannot claim her as a relation," said Montague. "She is cousin to my cousin only, and a perfect stranger to me."