“This mother of mine means me to be an old bachelor. What a jealous old lady it is! But now just look at that splendid creature in the pale blue satin dress, and hair of paler brown, with reflets satinés as those of her robe. Would you not feel proud, mamma, if I were to bring that goddess home some day, and introduce her to you as Mrs. Bretton, junior?”

“You will bring no goddess to La Terrasse : that little château will not contain two mistresses; especially if the second be of the height, bulk, and circumference of that mighty doll in wood and wax, and kid and satin.”

“Mamma, she would fill your blue chair so admirably!”

“Fill my chair? I defy the foreign usurper! a rueful chair should it be for her; but hush, John Graham! Hold your tongue, and use your eyes.”