Exit Lord Grandcourt, who returns to Diplow, and, like M.
Jabot, _change de linge_." Was ever any young witch like this?
You thought of hiding things from her--sat upon your secret and looked innocent, and all the while she knew by the corner of your eye that it was exactly five pounds ten you were sitting on! As well turn the key to keep out the damp! It was probable that by dint of divination she already knew more than any one else did of Mr.Grandcourt.That idea in Mrs.Davilow's mind prompted the sort of question which often comes without any other apparent reason than the faculty of speech and the not knowing what to do with it.
"Why, what kind of a man do you imagine him to be, Gwendolen ?" "Let me see!" said the witch, putting her forefinger to her lips, with a little frown, and then stretching out the finger with decision.
"Short--just above my shoulder--crying to make himself tall by turning up his mustache and keeping his beard long--a glass in his right eye to give him an air of distinction--a strong opinion about his waistcoat, but uncertain and trimming about the weather, on which he will try to draw me out.

He will stare at me all the while, and the glass in his eye will cause him to make horrible faces, especially when he smiles in a flattering way.

I shall cast down my eyes in consequence, and he will perceive that I am not indifferent to his attentions.

I shall dream that night that I am looking at the extraordinary face of a magnified insect--and the next morning he will make an offer of his hand; the sequel as before." "That is a portrait of some one you have seen already, Gwen.

Mr.
Grandcourt may be a delightful young man for what you know." "Oh, yes," said Gwendolen, with a high note of careless admission, taking off her best hat and turning it round on her hand contemplatively.