"You must know him." "I am delighted to know Mr.Newman," said the marquis with a low bow, but without offering his hand.
"He is the old woman at second-hand," Newman said to himself, as he returned M.de Bellegarde's greeting.

And this was the starting-point of a speculative theory, in his mind, that the late marquis had been a very amiable foreigner, with an inclination to take life easily and a sense that it was difficult for the husband of the stilted little lady by the fire to do so.

But if he had taken little comfort in his wife he had taken much in his two younger children, who were after his own heart, while Madame de Bellegarde had paired with her eldest-born.
"My brother has spoken to me of you," said M.de Bellegarde; "and as you are also acquainted with my sister, it was time we should meet." He turned to his mother and gallantly bent over her hand, touching it with his lips, and then he assumed an attitude before the chimney-piece.

With his long, lean face, his high-bridged nose and his small, opaque eye he looked much like an Englishman.

His whiskers were fair and glossy, and he had a large dimple, of unmistakably British origin, in the middle of his handsome chin.