It is the profound conviction of all who were familiar with that seminary that the pupils would not have shrunk from marrying a crown-prince, or any king in any country who confined himself to Christian wedlock with one wife, or even the son of an English duke--so perfect was the polish, so liberal the education.
Mrs.Newt's party was select.

Mrs.Plumer, Miss Grace Plumer and the Magots, with Mellish Whitloe, of course; and Mrs.Osborne Moultrie, a lovely woman from Georgia, and her son Sligo, a slim, graceful gentleman, with fair hair and eyes; Dr.and Mrs.Lush, Rev.Dr.and Mrs.Maundy, who came only upon the express understanding that there was to be no dancing, and a few other agreeable people.

It was a Summer party, Abel said--mere low-necked muslin, strawberries and ice-cream.
The eyes of the strangers of the gentler sex soon discovered the dark, rich face of Abel, who moved among the groups with the grace and ease of an accomplished man of society, smiling brightly upon his friends, bowing gravely to those of his mother's guests whom he did not personally know.
"Who is that ?" asked Mrs.Whetwood Tully, who had recently returned with her daughter, one of Madame de Feuille's finest successes, from a foreign tour.
"That is my brother Abel," replied Miss Fanny.
"Your brother Abel?
how charming! How very like he is to Viscount Tattersalls.

You've not been in England, I believe, Miss Newt ?" Fanny bowed negatively.
"Ah! then you have never seen Lord Tattersalls.

He is a very superior young man.