Behind him in Indian file advanced Sophia, Jane, Calypso, each in a straight frock of vivid yellow surmounted by a straw hat of such enormous brim as to lend them a fearful likeness to three gigantic fungi.

As far as the hats allowed one to see from above, each wore sandal-shoes, and carried a small green parasol, neatly folded.
At the sight of this regiment of visitors, Mr.Goodwyn-Sandys paused with razor in air and blood trickling down his chin.

The Admiral marched resolutely up the path and struck three distinct knocks upon the door.
It was opened by the youth in buttons.
The Admiral produced a sheaf of visiting cards and handed them to the page, as if inviting him to select one, note it carefully, and restore it to the pack.
"Is the Honourable Frederic Goodwyn-Sandys or the Honourable Mrs.
Goodwyn-Sandys at home ?" Words cannot do justice to the Admiral's tone.
The regiment was marched into the drawing-room, where Mrs.
Goodwyn-Sandys rose to receive them.
[Illustration: Mrs.Goodwyn-Sandys rose to receive them.] She was undeniably beautiful; not young, but rather in that St.
Martin's Summer when a woman learns for the first time the value of her charms.

Her hair was of a glossy black, her lips red and full, her figure and grey morning gown two miracles.

But on her eyes and voice you shall hear Mr.Moggridge, who subsequently wasted a deal of Her Majesty's time and his own paper upon this subject.