"She ain't a bad urchin," he observed, "as sisters go.

We're staying here along with the de Vignes.

Ever met 'em?
Lady Grace is a holy terror.

Her husband is a horrible stuck-up bore of an Anglo-Indian,--thinks himself everybody, and tells the most awful howlers.

Rose--that's the daughter--is by way of being very beautiful.
There she goes now; see?
That golden-haired girl in red! She's another of your beastly star skaters.