"Yes: well enough," Richard answered.

"Well?" resumed his vigorous aunt, walking on with him, while Clare and
Adrian followed. "I really never saw you looking so handsome. There's
something about your face--look at me--you needn't blush. You've grown
to an Apollo. That blue buttoned-up frock coat becomes you admirably--
and those gloves, and that easy neck-tie. Your style is irreproachable,
quite a style of your own! And nothing eccentric. You have the instinct
of dress. Dress shows blood, my dear boy, as much as anything else.
Boy!--you see, I can't forget old habits. You were a boy when I left,
and now!--Do you see any change in him, Clare?" she turned half round to
her daughter.

"Richard is looking very well, mama," said Clare, glancing at him under
her eyelids.

"I wish I could say the same of you, my dear.--Take my arm, Richard. Are
you afraid of your aunt? I want to get used to you. Won't it be
pleasant, our being all in town together in the season? How fresh the
Opera will be to you! Austin, I hear, takes stalls. You can come to the
Forey's box when you like. We are staying with the Foreys close by here.
I think it's a little too far out, you know; but they like the
neighbourhood. This is what I have always said: Give him more liberty!
Austin has seen it at last. How do you think Clare looking?"

The question had to be repeated. Richard surveyed his cousin hastily,
and praised her looks.

"Pale!" Mrs. Doria sighed.