If he knew how to dress his shoulders properly, and to direct his eyes--Oh! the eyes! you should see how a Portuguese nobleman can use his eyes! Soul! my dears, soul! Can any of you look the unutterable without being absurd! You look so.' And the Countess hung her jaw under heavily vacuous orbits, something as a sheep might yawn.
'But I acknowledge that Evan is no worse than the rest of you,' she repeated.

'If he understood at all the management of his eyes and mouth! But that's what he cannot possibly learn in England--not possibly! As for your poor husband, Harriet! one really has to remember his excellent qualities to forgive him, poor man! And that stiff bandbox of a man of yours, Caroline!' addressing the wife of the Marine, 'he looks as if he were all angles and sections, and were taken to pieces every night and put together in the morning.

He may be a good soldier--good anything you will--but, Diacho! to be married to that! He is not civilized.

None of you English are.

You have no place in the drawing-room.