She thought it her mission to appear and to conquer.

A crowd of suitors would sigh around her, like the loves and graces round that fair Belinda whose story she had read so often; and it would be her part to choose the most worthy.

The days are gone when a girl would so much as look at such a fribble as Sir Plume.

Her virgin fancy demands the Tennysonian ideal, the grave and knightly Arthur.
But when Lesbia thought of the most worthy, it was always of the worthiest in her own particular sphere; and he of course would be titled and wealthy, and altogether fitted to be her husband.

He would take her by the hand and lead her to a higher seat on the dais, and place upon her head, or at least upon her letter-paper and the panels of her carriage, a coronet in which the strawberry leaves should stand out more prominently than in her brother's emblazonment.