'Why, the boy will be telling you next that he will not permit the Duke to visit you! Just your English order of mind, that cannot--brutes!--conceive of friendship between high-born men and beautiful women.

Beautiful as you truly are, Carry, five years more will tell on you.

But perhaps my dearest is in a hurry to return to her Maxwell?
At least he thwacks well!' Caroline's arm was taken.

The Countess loved an occasional rhyme when a point was to be made, and went off nodding and tripping till the time for stateliness arrived, near the breakfast-room door.

She indeed was acting.