"Oh, every way." Cora let her glance rest dreamily upon the goaded
boy. "He has a splendid head set upon a magnificent torso----"

"_Torso_!" Hedrick whispered hoarsely.

"Tall, a glorious figure--like a young guardsman's." Madness was
gathering in her brother's eyes; and observing it with quiet
pleasure, she added: "One sees immediately he has the grand
manner, the bel air."

Hedrick exploded. "`_Bel air_'!" he screamed, and began to jump up
and down, tossing his arms frantically, and gasping with emotion.
"Oh, bel air! Oh, blah! `Henry Esmond!' Been readin' `Henry
Esmond!' Oh, you be-yoo-tiful Cora-Beatrix-a-_lee_! Magganifisent
torso! Gull_o_-rious figgi-your! Bel air! Oh, slush! Oh, luv-a-ly
slush!" He cast himself convulsively upon the floor, full length.
"Luv-a-ly, _luv_-a-ly slush!"

"He is thirty, I should say," continued Cora, thoughtfully.
"Yes--about thirty. A strong, keen face, rather tanned. He's
between fair and dark----"

Hedrick raised himself to the attitude of the "Dying Gaul." "And
with `hair slightly silvered at the temples!' _Ain_'t his hair
slightly silvered at the temples?" he cried imploringly. "Oh,
sister, in pity's name let his hair be slightly silvered at the
temples? Only three grains of corn, your Grace; my children are
starving!"