“Pretty! Do you think so?” asked her sister, with an air of matter-of-fact impartiality. “I don’t admire those big, coarse-looking women. I like a face which shows signs of the higher intelligence, a face which lights up. And Deborah has no conversation. I can’t admire a girl without conversation.” “Papa can though,” said Kate, rather maliciously. “He admires Deborah, and I am sure you can’t say he likes coarse-looking women.” “A gentlemen’s taste in beauty is not the same as a lady’s,” said Elizabeth, moving restlessly, and wishing that her persistent little sister would let her change this awkward subject. “I know it isn’t. I expect some women would admire Mademoiselle de Laval,” whispered Kate, glancing towards the dozing French governess, whose wide nose and mouth, leathern complexion and well-defined moustache formed a combination of feminine attractions rarely to be met with. “But do you know, Betty, after mature consideration of the subject, I would rather be pretty according to the gentlemen’s standard than according to the ladies’.” Lady Elizabeth, who, although extremely erudite, was rather dull, did not perceive all the point of this speech, but felt that the pert girl was slyly laughing at her. She was too good-tempered to grow cross, however; she only grew didactic. “You can’t expect much refinement from a fisherman’s daughter, of course,” she said in obstinate tone. “I’ve always pitied poor Mrs. Pennant--who comes of one of the oldest families in England, better than her husband’s--for having to submit to such an absurd caprice of his. She feels it, poor thing, dreadfully.” “Yes, and turns up her eyes over it, and acts quite a pretty pantomime of resignation over it still, though Deborah’s been one of the family eighteen years. The consequence is that the boys have never learnt to look upon her as a sister, and so they’re falling in love with her. Godwin, and Hervey--yes, and Rees too, whatever Marion may like to think.” “So much the better. Then Rees can marry the girl, though I think one of the gamekeepers would be a more suitable match.” “Betty, how can you? You talk just like an ordinary spiteful girl. Deborah is as much a lady as we are ourselves.” “Very well then. Don’t let’s talk any more about it. We shall only quarrel. And all about a girl who thinks that a smattering of French, German and the piano form a good education.” There was a pause. But Kate, who always liked to worry a subject to death, soon broke out again. “Betty, why do you think papa wouldn’t let Rees marry Marion? He’s so fond of Rees, he really treats him almost as if he were his own son.”