"She is a lovely creature, certainly," murmured Robert, with placid
admiration.

"Oh, of course! Now, she is the first woman of whom I ever heard you say
a civil word, Robert Audley. I'm sorry to find you can only admire wax
dolls."

Poor Alicia had had many skirmishes with her cousin upon that particular
temperament of his, which, while it enabled him to go through life with
perfect content and tacit enjoyment, entirely precluded his feeling one
spark of enthusiasm upon any subject whatever.

"As to his ever falling in love," thought the young lady sometimes, "the
idea is preposterous. If all the divinities on earth were ranged before
him, waiting for his sultanship to throw the handkerchief, he would only
lift his eyebrows to the middle of his forehead, and tell them to
scramble for it."

But, for once in his life, Robert was almost enthusiastic.

"She's the prettiest little creature you ever saw in your life, George,"
he cried, when the carriage had driven off and he returned to his
friend. "Such blue eyes, such ringlets, such a ravishing smile, such a
fairy-like bonnet--all of a-tremble with heart's-ease and dewy spangles,
shining out of a cloud of gauze. George Talboys, I feel like the hero of
a French novel: I am falling in love with my aunt."

The widower only sighed and puffed his cigar fiercely out of the open
window. Perhaps he was thinking of that far-away time--little better