Basil was not strong.

He was pleasant, idle, rather vain, and a little inclined to be dissipated.

Mrs.Octagon did not know that Basil was fond of dissipation.

She thought him a model young Oxford man, and hoped he would one day be Laureate of England.
Afternoon tea was just ended, and several of Mrs.Octagon's friends had departed.

Basil and Mr.Octagon were out, but the latter entered with a paper in his hand shortly after the last visitor took her leave.
Mrs.Octagon, in a ruby-colored velvet, looking majestic and self-satisfied, was enthroned--the word is not too strong--in an arm-chair, and Juliet was seated opposite to her turning over the leaves of a new novel produced by one of The Circle.