She was something by herself, superior and rare.
A little inclined to take herself too seriously, perhaps; but her husband's admirable levity would, no doubt, improve her.
"My dear," said Miss Proctor, "I congratulate you.

He's brilliant, he's charming, he's unique.

Why didn't we know of him before?
Where has he been hiding his talents all this time ?" (A talent that had not bloomed in Thurston Square was a talent pitiably wasted.) Anne smiled a blanched, perfunctory smile.

Ah, where had he been hiding himself, indeed?
Miss Proctor stood central, radiating the rich afterglow of her appreciation.

Her gaze was a little critical of her friends' faces, as if she were measuring the effect, on a provincial audience, of Majendie's conversational technique.