square; but everything looks extraordinarily well sewn and ironed and
everybody is clean shaven; and Octavia says it takes at least two hundred
years of gently bred ancestors to look like a gentleman clean shaven in
evening dress, so perhaps that is why lots of them have the appearance of
actors. Tom, with his ugly face and his long lean limbs, seemed as some
other species of animal, or a Derby winner let loose among a pen of prize
hackneys and cobs. Many of them are splendid of their kind, but it is
perfectly absurd to pretend they look thoroughbred. One would not expect it
of animals, with their mixed ancestry, so why of human beings.

Octavia says they would be insulted to hear me saying that, but I am sure
they are far too sensible and logical; for if you were a mixture of cart
horse, hunter, thoroughbred, Shetland and cob, you might have the good
qualities of all and be a magnificent splendid creature, but you could not
expect to look like one of the direct descendants of the Godolphin Arabian,
could you, Mamma?

I don't mind that part in the least, but I would rather they had a more
outdoor expression. As I looked round the room numbers of their faces
seemed pasty, and their shapes thick through, and soft, as if they would
bruise easily if one touched them, and lived a good deal in the dark. Also
they don't have "flowers and honey" on their hair, so it does not shine and
keep tidy, and it is not brushed smartly; and after our lovely guardsmen
they look a little ungroomed about the head. This, of course, is only my
first impression, after seeing the fashionable restaurant one evening. I
may be quite wrong, generally speaking.

The women are so exquisitely dressed that it is difficult to form an
opinion. They have whatever is the latest fashion, perfectly made; all
their hair is done exactly alike in the way it is worn in Paris. Their