So you like Godfrey
Bellingham?"
"Yes. He is a trifle peppery and impulsive, but quite an agreeable,
genial old buffer."
"And the daughter," said Jervis, "what is she like?"
"Oh, she is a learned lady; works up bibliographies and references at
the Museum."
"Ah!" Jervis exclaimed, with deep disfavour, "I know the breed. Inky
fingers; no chest to speak of; all side and spectacles."
I rose artlessly at the gross and palpable bait.
"You're quite wrong," I exclaimed indignantly, contrasting Jervis's
hideous presentment with the comely original. "She is an exceedingly
good-looking girl, and her manners all that a lady's should be. A little
stiff, perhaps, but then I am only an acquaintance--almost a stranger."
"But," Jervis persisted, "what is she like, in appearance I mean. Short?
fat? sandy? Give us intelligible details."
I made a rapid mental inventory, assisted by my recent cogitations.
"She is about five feet seven, slim but rather plump, very erect in
carriage and graceful in movements; black hair, loosely parted in the
middle and falling very prettily away from the forehead; pale, clear
complexion, dark grey eyes, straight eyebrows, straight, well-shaped
nose, short mouth, rather full; round chin--what the deuce are you
grinning at, Jervis?" For my friend had suddenly unmasked his batteries
and now threatened, like the Cheshire Cat, to dissolve into a mere
abstraction of amusement.
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