That exception was the Lady Coriander, who, there being no vacancy above a marquis and a rental of L1,000,000, waited.

Gathered around the refined and sacred circle of their breakfast-table, with their glittering coronets, which, in filial respect to their father's Tory instincts and their mother's Ritualistic tastes, they always wore on their regal brows, the effect was dazzling as it was refined.

It was this peculiarity and their strong family resemblance which led their brother-in-law, the good-humored St.Addlegourd, to say that, "'Pon my soul, you know, the whole precious mob looked like a ghastly pack of court cards, you know." St.Addlegourd was a radical.

Having a rent-roll of L15,000,000, and belonging to one of the oldest families in Britain, he could afford to be.
"Mamma, I've just dropped a pearl," said the Lady Coriander, bending over the Persian hearthrug.
"From your lips, sweet friend," said Lothaw, who came of age and entered the room at the same moment.
"No, from my work.

It was a very valuable pearl, mamma; papa gave Isaacs and Sons L50,000 for the two." "Ah, indeed," said the Duchess, languidly rising; "let us go to luncheon." "But your Grace," interposed Lothaw, who was still quite young, and had dropped on all-fours on the carpet in search of the missing gem, "consider the value--" "Dear friend," interposed the Duchess, with infinite tact, gently lifting him by the tails of his dress-coat, "I am waiting for your arm.".