"Call her Beatrice, mamma, and make a story of it."

"I talked to her about my Knight Sutton home, and cousins, and on the
other hand, then, Frank was always telling her about his school friend
Geoffrey Langford. At last Frank brought him home from Oxford one
Easter vacation. It was when the general was in command at ----, and
Beatrice was in the midst of all sorts of gaieties, the mistress of the
house, entertaining everybody, and all exactly what a novel would call
brilliant."

"Were you there, mamma?"

"Yes, Beatrice had made a point of our coming to stay with her, and
very droll it was to see how she and Geoffrey were surprised at each
other; she to find her brother's guide, philosopher, and friend, the
Langford who had gained every prize, a boyish-looking, boyish-mannered
youth, very shy at first, and afterwards, excellent at giggling and
making giggle; and he to find one with the exterior of a fine gay lady,
so really simple in tastes and habits."

"Was Aunt Geoffrey ever pretty?" asked Fred.

"She is just what she was then, a little brown thing with no actual
beauty but in her animation and in her expression. I never saw a
really handsome person who seemed to me nearly as charming. Then she
had, and indeed has now, so much air and grace, so much of what, for
want of a better word, I must call fashion in her appearance, that she
was always very striking."