It was a place in which, at all times, before interesting objects, the unanimous occupants, almost more concerned for each other's vibrations than for anything else, were apt rather more to exchange sharp and silent searchings than to fix their eyes on the object itself.

In the case of Lady Fanny, however, the object itself--and quite by the same law that had worked, though less profoundly, on the entrance of little Aggie--superseded the usual rapt communion very much in the manner of some beautiful tame tigress who might really coerce attention.

There was in Mrs.Brookenham's way of looking up at her a dim despairing abandonment of the idea of any common personal ground.

Lady Fanny, magnificent, simple, stupid, had almost the stature of her brother, a forehead unsurpassably low and an air of sombre concentration just sufficiently corrected by something in her movements that failed to give it a point.

Her blue eyes were heavy in spite of being perhaps a couple of shades too clear, and the wealth of her black hair, the disposition of the massive coils of which was all her own, had possibly a satin sheen depreciated by the current fashion.