He and Miss Farrow had discussed to-night's menu together that morning, and he had spoken with modest enthusiasm of this _Sole a la Cardinal_....
On the other side of the host sat Helen Brabazon.
Blanche looked at the late Mrs.Varick's one intimate friend with critical interest.

Yes, Miss Brabazon looked Somebody, though a somewhat old-fashioned Somebody, considering that she was still quite a young woman.

She had good hair, a good complexion, and clear, honest-looking hazel eyes; but not her kindest friends would have called her pretty.
What charm she had depended on her look of perfect health, and her alert, intelligent expression of face.

Miss Farrow, who was well read, and, indeed, had a fine taste in literature, told herself suddenly that Miss Brabazon was rather her idea of Jane Austen's Emma! Her dark-blue velvet dress, though it set off her pretty skin, and the complexion which was one of her best points, yet was absurdly old, for a girl.
Doubtless Miss Brabazon's gown had been designed by the same dressmaker who had made her mother's presentation dress some thirty years before.
Such dressmakers are a quaint survival of the Victorian age, and to them old-fashioned people keep on going from a sense of loyalty, or perhaps because they are honestly ignorant of what strides in beauty and elegance other dressmakers have made in the last quarter of a century.
The hostess's eye travelled slowly round the table.

How ludicrous the contrast between Helen Brabazon and Bubbles Dunster! Yet they were probably very much of an age.