I'd rather back her than bet against her.' 'Lady Maulevrier!' announced the groom of the chambers; and Lady Denyer moved at least three paces forward to meet her guest.
The lady who entered, with slow and stately movements and proudly balanced head, might have served for a model as Juno or the Empress Livia.

She was still in the bloom of youth, at most seven-and-twenty, but she had all the calm assurance of middle-age.

No dowager, hardened by the varied experiences of a quarter of a century in the great world, could have faced society with more perfect coolness and self-possession.
She was beautiful, and she let the world see that she was conscious of her beauty, and the power that went along with it.

She was clever, and she used her cleverness with unfailing tact and unscrupulous audacity.
She had won her place in the world as an acknowledged beauty, and one of the leaders of fashion.

Two years ago she had been the glory and delight of Anglo-Indian society in the city of Madras, ruling that remote and limited kingdom with a despotic power.