Miss Honeyman and Hannah will talk about his dilapidations for years after the little chap has left them.

When he is a jolly young officer in the Guards, and comes to see them at Brighton, they will show him the blue-dragon Chayny jar, on which he would sit, and which he cried so fearfully upon breaking.
When this little party has gone out smiling to take its walk on the sea-shore, the Colonel sits down and resumes the interrupted dessert.
Miss Honeyman talks of the children and their mother, and the merits of Mr.Kuhn, and the beauty of Miss Ethel, glancing significantly towards Clive, who has had enough of gingerbread nuts and dessert and wine, and whose youthful nose is by this time at the window.

What kind-hearted woman, young or old, does not love match-making?
The Colonel, without lifting his eyes from the table, says "she reminds him of--of somebody he knew once." "Indeed ?" cries Miss Honeyman, and thinks Emma must have altered very much after going to India, for she had fair hair, and white eyelashes, and not a pretty foot certainly--but, my dear good lady, the Colonel is not thinking of the late Mrs.Casey.
He has taken a fitting quantity of the Madeira, the artless greeting of the people here, young and old, has warmed his heart, and he goes upstairs to pay a visit to his sister-in-law, to whom he makes his most courteous bow as becomes a lady of her rank.

Ethel takes her place quite naturally beside him during his visit.

Where did he learn those fine manners which all of us who knew him admired in him?
He had a natural simplicity, an habitual practice of kind and generous thoughts; a pure mind, and therefore above hypocrisy and affectation--perhaps those French people with whom he had been intimate in early life had imparted to him some of the traditional graces of their vieille tour--certainly his half-brothers had inherited none such.