The conventional thought did not make the cordial utterance insincere. The two ran in couples--we often drive such pairs, every one of us--and if they entail insincerity, _Veritas, vale!_ "Madre mia, I called to inquire if you have survived the anxiety of last night, and to know what _jeune sauvage_ or feir _religieuse_ you may have had sent you for the galvanizing of Belgravia?" said Carruthers, paying his accustomed visit in his mother's boudoir, and throwing macaroons at Bijou's nose. "My dear Philip, I hardly know; she puzzles me. She's what, if she were a man, I should classify as a detrimental." "Is she awkward?" "Not in the least. Perfect manners, wherever she learned them." "Brusque?" "Soft as a gazelle. Very like her mother." "Brown?" "Fair as that statuette, with a beautiful bloom; lovely gold hair, too, and hazel eyes." "What are the shortcomings, then?" "There are none; and it's that that puzzles me. She's been six years in that convent, and yet, I do assure you, her style is perfect. She's hardly eighteen, but she's the air of the best society. She is--a--well, _almost_ nobody, as people rank now, you know, for poor dear Lilla's marriage was not what she should have made, but the girl might be a royal duke's daughter for manner." "A premature artificial _femme du monde_? Bah! nothing more odious," said Carruthers, poising a macaroon on Pandore's nose. "Make ready!--present!--fire! There's a good dog!" "No, nothing of that sort: very natural, frank, vivacious. Nothing artificial about her; very charming indeed! But she might be a young Countess, the queen of a _monde_ rather than a young girl just out of a French convent; and, you know, my dear Philip, that sort of wit and nonchalance may be admirable for Cecil Cheveley, assured of her position, but they're dangerous to a girl like this Flora Montolieu: they will make people remark her and ask who she is, and try to pull her to pieces, if they don't find her somebody they _dare_ not hit. I would much rather she were of the general pattern, pleasing, but nothing remarkable, well-bred, but nothing to envy, thoroughly educated, but monosyllabic in society; such a girl as that passes among all the rest, suits mediocre men (and the majority of men _are_ mediocre, you know, my dear Philip), and pleases women because she is a nice girl, and no rival; but this little Montolieu----" And Lady Marabout sighed with a prescience of coming troubles, while Carruthers laughed and rose.