Her chief attraction was a bell-toned laugh, fresh as a meadow spring.

She had met Wilfrid once in the hunting-field, so they soon had common ground to run on.
Mr.Powys made Emilia happy by talking to her of Italy, in the intervals of table anecdotes.
"Why did you leave it ?" she said.
"I found I had more shadows than the one allotted me by nature; and as I was accustomed to a black one, and not half a dozen white, I was fairly frightened out of the country." "You mean, Austrians." "I do." "Do you hate them ?" "Not at all." "Then, how can you love the Italians ?" "They themselves have taught me to do both; to love them and not to hate their enemies.

Your Italians are the least vindictive of all races of men." "Merthyr, Merthyr!" went Lady Gosstre; Lady Charlotte murmuring aloud: "And in the third chapter of the Book of Paradox you will find these words." "We afford a practical example and forgive them, do we not ?" Mr.Powys smiled at Emilia.
She looked round her, and reddened a little.
"So long as you do not write that Christian word with the point of a stiletto!" said Lady Charlotte.
"You are not mad about the Italians ?" Wilfrid addressed her.
"Not mad about anything, I hope.

If I am to choose, I prefer the Austrians.

A very gentlemanly set of men! At least, so I find them always.