She was a thousand times more beautiful than all Paul's feverish recollections of her. He watched her, transported.
'Darling boy, how are you? she said. 'Do you know you're beginning to look rather lovely in a coltish kind of way. Don't you think so, Otto?
Paul had noticed nothing in the room except Mrs Beste‑Chetwynde; he now saw that there was a young man sitting beside her, with very fair hair and large glasses, behind which his eyes lay like slim fish in an aquarium; they woke from their slumber, flashed iridescent in the light, and darted towards little Beste-Chetwynde.
'His head is too big, and his hands are too small, said Professor Silenus. 'But his skin is pretty.
'How would it be if I made Mr Pennyfeather a cocktail? Beste‑Chetwynde asked.
'Yes, Peter, dear, do. He makes them rather well. You can't think what a week I've had, moving in and taking the neighbours round the house and the Press photographers. Otto's house doesn't seem to be a great success with the county, does it, Otto? What was it Lady Vanburgh said?
'Was that the woman like Napoleon the Great?
'Yes, darling.
'She said she understood that the drains were satisfactory, but that, of course, they were underground. I asked her if she wished to make use of them, and said that I did, and went away. But, as a matter of fact, she was quite right. They are the only tolerable part of the house. How glad I shall be when the mosaics are finished and I can go!
'Don't you like it? asked Peter Beste‑Chetwynde over the cocktail‑shaker. 'I think it's so good. It was rather Chokey's taste before.