He handed it to Vincy, who gave Bruce a quick look, and then tried it.

'Rather quaint and pretty, I think. I like the effect,' he said,
handing it back to Bruce.

'It may be quaint and pretty, and it may be the latest thing, and it
may be jade,' said Bruce rather sarcastically, 'but I'm not a slave to
fashion. I never was. And I don't see any use whatever in an opera
glass that makes everything look smaller instead of larger, and at a
greater distance instead of nearer. I call it rot. I always say what I
think. And you can tell your mother what I said if you like.'

'You're looking through it the wrong side, dear,' said Edith.



CHAPTER III

The Golden Quoribus

Edith had been very pretty at twenty, but at twenty-eight her
prettiness had immensely increased; she had really become a beauty of a
particularly troubling type. She had long, deep blue eyes, clearly-cut
features, hair of that soft, fine light brown just tinged with red
called by the French châtain clair; and a flower-like complexion. She
was slim, but not angular, and had a reposeful grace and a decided
attraction for both men and women. They generally tried to express this
fascination by discovering resemblances in her to various well-known
pictures of celebrated artists. She had been compared to almost every
type of all the great painters: Botticelli, Sir Peter Lely,