I trust she won't prejudice your Aunt Jane." "Aunt Jane always thinks for herself," said Lady Ethelrida.

She announced no personal opinion about Tristram's fiance, nor could Lord Coltshurst extort one from her.
As the dinner went on she felt a growing sense that they were all on the edge of a volcano.
Lady Ethelrida never meddled in other people's affairs, but she loved Tristram as a brother and she felt a little afraid.

She could not see his face, from where she sat--the table was a long one with oval ends--but she, too, had seen the flash from Zara which had caused Jimmy Danvers to exclaim: "Jehoshaphat!" The host soon turned back from duty to pleasure, leaving Lady Coltshurst to Lord Charles Montfitchet.

The conversation turned upon types.
Types were not things of chance, Francis Markrute affirmed; if one could look back far enough there was always a reason for them.
"People are so extremely unthinking about such a number of interesting things, Lady Ethelrida," he said, "their speculative faculties seem only to be able to roam into cut and dried channels.

We have had great scientists like Darwin investigating our origin, and among the Germans there are several who study the atavism of races, but in general even educated people are perfectly ignorant upon the subject, and they expect little Tommy Jones and Katie Robinson, or Jacques Dubois and Marie Blanc, to have the same instincts as your cousin, Lord Tancred, and you, for instance.