It happened that at the extremest point of Ann Veronica’s social circle from the Widgetts was the family of the Morningside Park horsedealer, a company of extremely dressy and hilarious young women, with one equestrian brother addicted to fancy waistcoats, cigars, and facial spots. (What was the name he had given her that day?) He was walking beside the chair upon which appeared to be a bundle of colours. He had certain orders from which on no account was he to deviate. She had done forever with the Age of Chivalry, and her own base adaptations of its traditions to the compromising life. Dieu du ciel, what was it? She turned slowly, listening for the direction of the sound. They were properly brought up, and sat still and straight, and took the luck fate brought them as gentlewomen should.
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