hair, which she wore very elaborately puffed; her face was pleasing and her expression what is called lady-like—that is to say, it did not betray any one characteristic too strongly, except that of polite acquiescence in generally accepted doctrines. Her husband—who was the gentleman present—considered her a devilish "distanggay"-looking woman. As for himself, he was chiefly remarkable for a pair of long legs, which seemed rather insecurely attached to his body, and a very marvellous laugh—a laugh which started with a gentle gurgle apparently from his toes, and burst from his lips with the roar of a Niagara. So far as mere noise went it was admirable; but there was never anything less mirthful. He was Captain Archibald Golightly, late of the —th Hussars, and brother to the lady with the bonnet.
The third lady—who looked about twenty-seven—had a nose which somehow suggested low comedy, and a plaintive-looking mouth. She bore a certain resemblance, particularly about the eyes, which were large, clear, and emotionless—singularly like glass marbles—to the lady in the bonnet. She was, in fact, her daughter.
"Did I hear Godfrey's voice in the hall?" said Mrs. Golightly, as her step-son entered. She was the captain's second wife. "Why didn't you make him come in?"
"He's in one of his moods," said George—for that was the young man's name.
"Are you speaking of Godfrey Provence?" said the lady with the bonnet. "Do tell me about him. Does there seem any prospect of his getting on?"
"He's still writing," said the Captain.
