Neither Lord Dunholm nor his wife nor their son did hesitate.

A girl with long limbs an alluring profile, and extraordinary black lashes set round lovely Irish-blue eyes, possesses physical capital not to be argued about.
She was not one of the curious, exotic little creatures, whose thin, though sometimes rather sweet, and always gay, high-pitched young voices Lord Dunholm had been so especially struck by in the early days of the American invasion.

Her voice had a tone one would be likely to remember with pleasure.

How well she moved--how well her black head was set on her neck! Yes, she was of the new type--the later generation.
These amazing, oddly practical people had evolved it--planned it, perhaps, bought--figuratively speaking--the architects and material to design and build it--bought them in whatever country they found them, England, France, Italy Germany--pocketing them coolly and carrying them back home to develop, complete, and send forth into the world when their invention was a perfected thing.

Struck by the humour of his fancy, Lord Dunholm found himself smiling into the Irish-blue eyes.