The large hat, with its undulating and waving plumes, threw a soft shadow across the classic brow with the aureole of auburn hair--free at the moment from any powder; the sweet, almost childlike mouth, the straight chiselled nose, round chin, and delicate throat, all seemed set off by the picturesque costume of the period.

The rich blue velvet robe moulded in its every line the graceful contour of the figure, whilst one tiny hand held, with a dignity all its own, the tall stick adorned with a large bunch of ribbons which fashionable ladies of the period had taken to carrying recently.
With a quick glance all around the room, Marguerite Blakeney had taken stock of every one there.

She nodded pleasantly to Sir Andrew Ffoulkes, whilst extending a hand to Lord Antony.
"Hello! my Lord Tony, why--what are YOU doing here in Dover ?" she said merrily.
Then, without waiting for a reply, she turned and faced the Comtesse and Suzanne.

Her whole face lighted up with additional brightness, as she stretched out both arms towards the young girl.
"Why! if that isn't my little Suzanne over there.

PARDIEU, little citizeness, how came you to be in England?
And Madame too ?" She went up effusive to them both, with not a single touch of embarrassment in her manner or in her smile.