When the first man and maid said even the most formal farewell, providing they were the right man and the right maid, the very stars must have begun their motion.

Very likely the fixed stars are nothing but grey-beards with no imagination.
Distance lends enchantment, but the frivolous might say that the preliminary farewell is the mint that coins it.

And, enchantment being independent of the commonplace, after all, it may have been that certain stars had already begun to sing while St.George sat staring at the little bowing flames of the juniper branches and Olivia was taking her tea.

Then in came Mrs.Hastings, a very literal interfering goddess, and her bonnet was frightfully awry so that the parrot upon it looked shockingly coquettish and irreverent and lent to her dignity a flavour of ill-timed waggishness.

But it must be admitted that Mrs.Hastings and everything that she wore were "_les antipodes des graces_." She was followed by a footman, his arms filled with parcels, and she sank among them on the divan and held out her limp, plump hand for a cup of tea.