George Uplift, Miss Carrington, and Rose, were the three she abhorred.

Partly to be out of their way, and to be out of the way of chance shots (for she had heard names of people coming that reminded her of Dubbins's, where, in past days, there had been on one awful occasion a terrific discovery made), the Countess selected Olympus for her station.

It was her last day, and she determined to be happy.
Doubtless, she was making a retreat, but have not illustrious Generals snatched victory from their pursuers?
Fair, then, sweet, and full of grace, the Countess moved.

As the restless shifting of colours to her motions was the constant interchange of her semisorrowful manner and ready archness.

Sir John almost capered to please her, and the diplomatist in talking to her forgot his diplomacy and the craft of his tongue.
It was the last day also of Caroline and the Duke.