She presented to the general observation a cruel aquiline nose, an obstinate straight chin, magnificent dark hair and eyes, a serene splendor of fawn-colored apparel, and a lazy grace of movement which was attractive at first sight, but inexpressibly monotonous and wearisome on a longer acquaintance.

This was Lady Lundie the Second, now the widow (after four months only of married life) of Sir Thomas Lundie, deceased.

In other words, the step-mother of Blanche, and the enviable person who had taken the house and lands of Windygates.
"My dear," said Lady Lundie, "words have their meanings--even on a young lady's lips.

Do you call Croquet, 'business ?'" "You don't call it pleasure, surely ?" said a gravely ironical voice in the back-ground of the summer-house.
The ranks of the visitors parted before the last speaker, and disclosed to view, in the midst of that modern assembly, a gentleman of the bygone time.
The manner of this gentleman was distinguished by a pliant grace and courtesy unknown to the present generation.

The attire of this gentleman was composed of a many-folded white cravat, a close-buttoned blue dress-coat, and nankeen trousers with gaiters to match, ridiculous to the present generation.