Among the queen's maids of honour, there was one called Warmestre: she
was a beauty very different from the other. Mrs. Middleton was well
made, fair, and delicate; but had in her behaviour and discourse
something precise and affected. The indolent languishing airs she gave
herself did not please everybody: people grew weary of those sentiments
of delicacy, which she endeavoured to explain without understanding them
herself; and instead of entertaining she became tiresome. In these
attempts she gave herself so much trouble, that she made the company
uneasy, and her ambition to pass for a wit, only established her the
reputation of being tiresome, which lasted much longer than her beauty.

Miss Warmestre was brown: she had no shape at all, and still less air;
but she had a very lively complexion, very sparkling eyes, tempting
looks, which spared nothing that might ensnare a lover, and promised
everything which could preserve him. In the end, it very plainly
appeared that her consent went along with her eyes to the last degree of
indiscretion.

It was between these two goddesses that the inclinations of the Chevalier
de Grammont stood wavering, and between whom his presents were divided.
Perfumed gloves, pocket looking-glasses, elegant boxes, apricot paste,
essences, and other small wares of love, arrived every week from Paris,
with some new suit for himself; but, with regard to more solid presents,
such as ear-rings, diamonds, brilliants, and bright guineas, all this was
to be met with of the best sort in London, and the ladies were as well
pleased with them as if they had been brought from abroad.

Miss Stewart's beauty began at this time to be celebrated.